No Rest for the Wicked
by aehawthorne
Summary: John Constantine is a busy man. The last thing he needs is a summons from Lucifer Morningstar, former Lord of Hell, current rich playboy and nightclub owner, and the cause of all his troubles. Lucifer needs a favor from him, but his request is beyond both his abilities and expertise, so he calls his old acquaintance, Oliver Queen, and leaves him to deal with Lucifer's problem.
1. Chapter 1

"Damn it Lucifer!"

John Constantine came storming into Lux, all rage and insolence and swagger, his tan trench coat flaring out behind him as he marched angrily up to the bar. "I've got work to do, important work, beating back the hordes of Hell that have grown restless in _your_ absence. I don't have _time_ to be summoned by one of your bloody Pentecostal coins every time you feel like having a shag!" He threw the coin in question down on the bar, where it clinked loudly against the glass top. He lit a cigarette with shaking fingers, muttering a curse when he nearly dropped it into the glass of scotch that Maze had poured for him while he'd been ranting. His Welsh accent, roughened by years of smoking, had always been infuriatingly sexy, but tinged with anger as it was it was damn near irresistible. Lucifer would have been lying if he'd said that he wasn't extremely turned on right now.

"Actually, I called you because I needed a favor," he said, with the particular seductive smile he reserved for the most favored of his partners. "But...I'm down for it if you are." He gave a none too subtle nod up the stairs toward his penthouse. John glowered and grumbled under his breath, but followed him up.

Later, as they lay in bed, tangled in silk sheets and each other, Lucifer found himself brushing his fingers back and forth along the inside of John's forearm, over the spot where a column of Chinese characters had once been, inked in thick black lines that contrasted sharply with his pale skin.

"What happened to your protection spell?" he asked, voice heavy with afterglow.

"Gave it to a chap who did me a good turn a while back," John grunted. "Figured I'd return the favor. Besides, in the end I reckon he ended up needing it more than me." Lucifer nodded.

"So what's this favor you need from me?" John asked.

"Always straight to the point with you, isn't it?" Lucifer countered. "Can't you ever just take some time and enjoy the moment?" John glared at him.

"Oh, very well," he said. "There's someone out there commiting unspeakable acts in my name. He walks the streets calling himself the Devil, dealing nefarious favors."

"Really?" John scoffed, disentangling himself from Lucifer. "The favor you need from me is protecting your reputation?"

"No, you don't understand," Lucifer implored, reaching for him. "I've spent an eternity trying to prove that I'm not evil, that I only punish evil. It was the only way I could get back at Father. I won't have this men destroying millenia of hard work. I _won't_." His eyes turned dangerously dark, the way they did in the split second before they flashed red.

"Oh, _bloody hell_ ," John muttered. "What you're of me isn't a favor, it's a military campaign. A long one. I'd have to spend weeks learning about this guy, his habits, his movements, his base of operations, before I'd even have a chance of getting close to him, during which time there's a very real possibility that the hordes of Hell that I've only been barely keeping at bay could overrun this world."

"So you're saying you won't help me," Lucifer said. There was something dangerous in his voice.

"No, I'm saying I can't," John said brusquely. "But there's no need to get your expensive silk knickers in a twist- I know someone who can. Just give it a few days. He'll come if I ask him." He turned his back to Lucifer and dressed himself with quick, angry motions. He was gone before Lucifer had the chance to say "Thank you", leaving a faint trace of tobacco smoke in his wake.


	2. Chapter 2

The man sitting at one of the back tables was an enigma. Lucifer cocked his head, studying him. He had a drink on the table next to his hand, but he wasn't drinking it. His posture was relaxed, but there was a high, tense set to his shoulders, and he scanned the faces of anyone who came near him, as if assessing whether or not they might be a threat to him. The blonde sitting beside him put a hand on his arm and whispered something in his ear, and for the briefest of instants he relaxed, a smile playing with the corners of his mouth, but then the moment passed and he went back to watching the crowd with dark, guarded eyes. This man was a warrior. Lucifer could tell. He must have been the person John had sent.

"Hello," he said, approaching his table, already dialing up the charm. "You must be-" He stopped mid sentence, recognizing the man.

"Why, Oliver Queen!" he exclaimed. "Star City's celebrity mayor! What brings you to my humble establishment?"

"Constantine sent us," Oliver said gruffly, eyebrows lowered in a scowl. "Told us that he owed you a favor, but what you needed from him wasn't something he was able to provide."

"Though why _we're_ the ones who _would_ be able to provide it is beyond me," the blonde seated beside Oliver put in.

"Ah, you must be the lovely Felicity Smoak," Lucifer said, flashing her his most charming smile. Such behavior wasn't exactly fair to Chloe, but Chloe wasn't here. He paused, then added, "Or, it's Queen now, isn't?" When Felicity's eyes widened in surprise, he said, "Don't look so shocked, my dear. You didn't really think you'd escaped the effects of your husband's celebrity, did you? As I recall, the two of you were Star City's favorite couple. They even had a cutesy name for you, didn't they?" This last question went unanswered. Lucifer sighed.

"You two are no fun, are you?" he asked.

"We're not here for fun," Oliver snapped, earning himself a scathing look from his wife for his lack of tact. "We're here to fulfill Constantine's obligation to you so we can be on our way. We have our own lives to get back to, you know."

"Very well," Lucifer finally said when he realized that there was no weakening Oliver's resolve. Damn John. He always did like the stubborn ones. "Come with me to my penthouse. This is a matter that should be discussed in private."

It didn't escape Lucifer how, the second they stepped out of the elevator, Oliver immediately started canvassing the new environment, his blue eyes wary as he scanned the room for threats.

"Relax, Mr. Queen," Lucifer said, amusement coloring his tone. "No one is going to attack you. Well, except perhaps Maze, but she's hardly ever around her anymore." Perhaps he should have left out the part about Maze, because Oliver didn't completely relax until Felicity put a hand on his arm. He looked over at her, stared at her for a long moment, and his demeanor softened. Lucifer resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Anyway," he said, moving to his bar and pouring himself a drink. Oliver and Felicity remained standing in front of the elevator. "To business."

"What exactly do you need from Constantine?" Oliver asked.

"From us," Felicity corrected, not unkindly.

"Right," Oliver agreed. "From us."

"There's a man commiting unspeakable acts in my name," Lucifer explained impatiently, at a loss as to why John hadn't passed this information along. "He calls himself the Devil, and deals in favors of the nefarious variety."

"So you need us to protect your reputation?" Oliver asked, raising an eyebrow.

" _No_ ," Lucifer retorted, exasperated. "It's like I told John- there's more to it than that. This man, he- When I grant favors, it is _always_ ultimately for the benefit of the asker of the favor. Even then, I'm picky about which favors I grant, and to whom. If I believe the request might harm the person asking at any point, I don't grant it. This man takes no such care. He is hurting people, killing them. I refuse to let him destroy millenia of hard work." The thought made him so angry that for a split second his true face was revealed, accompanying the flare up of his temper. Felicity cried out in surprise, and Oliver reached over his shoulder, as if to draw an arrow from a quiver that wasn't there. It was their reactions that brought Lucifer back to himself.

"My apologies," he said, his voice deceptively casual, fixing his glamor back in place. "I'm afraid my temper got away from me for a moment there. Now, do you both understand the situation?" It was Felicity who spoke.

"I think so," she said, voice quiet, as if she were afraid that speaking too loudly might provoke Lucifer again. "We'll need time though. To gather evidence, and...other stuff."

"You have it," Lucifer said, eager to put the entire matter of his true face behind them. He could tell from the look in their eyes, though, that they would begin searching for an explanation for it the second they left him. They didn't seem to have much experience with the supernatural. "Just try not to take too much. I want this matter resolved as quickly as possible." After centuries of ruling Hell, Lucifer was a being used to having his demands obeyed, and his companions must have sensed this, as they offered not a word in protest. Lucifer heard the elevator doors slide open, and when he looked back, he was alone.


	3. Chapter 3

"What the hell was that?" Felicity asked in a low, urgent voice as they emerged into the bright California sunshine, leaning close as if she were afraid they might be overheard. "Oliver, what the _hell_ was that?"

"I don't know, Felicity," Oliver replied. It was a struggle to keep the frustration out of his voice- he was well aware of how woefully inadequate their knowledge of the supernatural was. "I just don't know." Felicity huffed. Oliver knew how much she _hated_ not knowing.

"Hey," he said, grabbing her arm and gently turning her to face him, much to the consternation of the other pedestrians on the sidewalk, who now had to steer around the pair. "We'll figure it out, okay? I'll call Constantine and see if he can fill us in on some of this stuff. It's going to be fine. Alright?" Felicity nodded, but she didn't exactly look reassured. Oliver sighed and stepped out of the path of the other pedestrians to make the call.

Constantine picked up after the first ring.

"What do you want, Oliver?" he asked gruffly. He sounded annoyed, but then, he usually sounded that way.

"We...saw something," Oliver said. "With Lucifer. Something we can't explain."

"And you want me to do what?" Constantine said scornfully. "Explain it to you? I don't have the time or the patience for that, Queen." A pause, then he asked "Wait, what do you mean 'we'? Oh bloody hell, tell me you didn't bring your girlfriend with you."

"Finding the unfindable is exactly her area of expertise," Oliver replied, with a glance toward her. "She could track this guy down in half the time it would take me to do it, whoever he is."

"Do you even realize how much danger you've put her in by involving her in this?" Constantine said, his words striking like a dagger in Oliver's heart. "Haven't you ever noticed that the bad guys you go after love to threaten her to get to you?"

"Felicity can handle herself," Oliver replied fervently, knowing- and hoping- that it was true.

"I hope so," Constantine said bluntly. "For both your sakes." For a moment, there was silence. Finally, Oliver asked "Are you going to help us or not?"

"Fine," Constantine grumbled. "If only so you don't end up getting yourselves killed by pissing off the wrong supernatural being."

Constantine chose what seemed to be the darkest, seediest dive bar in Los Angeles as their meeting place, exactly the sort of place he felt comfortable in- and that he assumed Oliver would not. The fact that he had even made such an assumption proved just how distant their friendship actually was. Oliver had been in much worse places than this.

"Oliver," Constantine grunted when he spotted them. "Didn't think you'd show."

"It'll take a lot more than some seedy little dive bar to scare me away," Oliver replied nonchalantly. "I've been in much worse places." Constantine nodded, seeming to know exactly what kind of worse places, but didn't bring them up.

"Follow me," he said, leading them to a booth in what had to be the darkest corner in the place.

"Wouldn't want anyone to overhear," he said in response to questioning looks from Oliver and Felicity. "Bit of a sensitive subject." He slid into the booth, his coat rustling against the fabric on the seat. Oliver and Felicity slid in across from him, settling into place in the corner of the booth with Oliver slumped against the back of it, his arm draped over the top, and Felicity leaning into his side. Their repose looked casual to the untrained eye, but it served two purposes- it afforded Oliver a view of the door, and allowed him to shield Felicity in the event that a fight broke out. Constantine glanced between them for a minute, then shrugged.

"So," he said, affecting a lazy, uninterested drawl. "What did Lucifer do that you can't explain?" Oliver and Felicity glanced at each other.

"Something happened with his face," Felicity said, the two of them coming to an unspoken consensus. "For a split second, his skin turned all red, and blackned, like he'd been in a fire. It was the most horrifying thing I've ever seen, and I've seen some pretty horrifying things."

"Ah," Constantine said. "Well, you see, that was his real face."

"What?" Oliver and Felicity asked in unison.

"The handsome, dark haired gentleman he seems to be is a glamor," Constantine explained, an impatient, exasperated "Well duh!" tone to his voice. "The face you saw for that split second, the red, scorched one? That's his real face. He's the Devil." He held up a hand to silence the oncoming protests.

"I don't just mean that he _claims_ to be the Devil," he continued. "I mean he's the literal Devil, the ruler of Hell. Or at least he was until, as I understand it, he got tired of playing a part in his father's play and came to Los Angeles to take a vacation. Lucifer Morningstar isn't just a stage name."

"I don't believe in the Devil," Felicity muttered darkly.

"Well, tough," Constantine snapped. "He exists, whether or not you believe in him, and now the two of you have gotten yourselves tangled up in his bullshite."

"It sounds like you have personal experience with that," Oliver said, his tone carefully neutral.

"When he left Hell, the demonic hordes became restless with no one there to keep them in line," Constantine growled. "They're determined to overrun this world now that there's no Lucifer to hold them back. For the past three years I've been fighting to keep them at bay, and Manny, the condescending bastard, _won't bloody help me_." No one bothered to ask who Manny was. They got the feeling he wasn't a who so much as a what, and that what was something just as unbelievable as Lucifer Morningstar being the Devil.

"Well, _thankfully_ ," Felicity said, ever the optimist, "the guy we're looking for is just a guy, right? Not, I don't know, a fallen angel, or a demon, or something?"

"So far that seems to be the case, yes," Constantine agreed, nodding.

"Good," Felicity said. "That means we can find him. As long as we've doing this, I've gotten good at finding people who don't want to be found. I guarantee he won't stay hidden for long." Oliver shot Constantine a look that said _See why I brought her along?_ Constantine sighed.

"You've made your point, Queen," he grumbled. "Is there anything else?"

"Not at the moment," Oliver replied. "But I make no promises about later." Constantine muttered something about insufferable idiots under his breath. The group fell silent, the background noise of the bar, ignored up until that point, filtering in.

"We should get going," Felicity spoke up. "It's late, and we have a lot to do tomorrow." Oliver nodded and leaned back in the booth to allow her to gather her things and slide out of it. He followed after her, a quick nod in Constantine's direction the only form of goodbye they exchanged.


	4. Chapter 4

Oliver woke to early morning sunlight streaming in through the hotel room window and an empty bed. He sat up, sheets rustling, to find Felicity seated at the desk, where she'd set up a laptop and several tablets in an attempt to approximate the setup in the lair as closely as possible.

"Hey," he said softly, crossing the room and kissing her in the hollow where her neck met her shoulder. "How long have you been up?"

"All night," she replied, exhaustion plain in her voice. "I lay in bed for about an hour after you fell asleep, but I couldn't to get to sleep. I've been trying to find information on Lucifer's mysterious adversary."

"Any luck?" Oliver asked.

"None," Felicity replied, shaking her head. She sighed in frustration. "I mean, we have _nothing_ on this guy. _Nothing_. Lucifer didn't give us a name, and all I'm getting when I Google 'Devil in Los Angeles' is out not so dear friend Mr. Morningstar himself."

"Thought you had magic fingers," Oliver said with a half smile.

"Oh, don't tease, Oliver," Felicity retorted, but with no bite to her words. "Even my quote unquote magic fingers can't find someone with no name."

"You're not going to have much more luck running on no sleep," Oliver advised. "Come back to bed. It's still early. We can pay Lucifer a visit once you're rested." He massaged Felicity's shoulders, a form of gentle coercion. She groaned and leaned into his touch.

"All right," she conceded. "It's lucky you're so persuasive." Oliver hummed assent and followed her over to the bed.

When next Oliver woke, it was late afternoon. He sat up with a gasp, chest heaving. He climbed out of bed and went to the window. The warm, golden California sunshine wasn't as much of a comfort as it might have been. Behind him, he heard the rustle of sheets and the pad of bare feet on carpet.

"Hey," Felicity said in a soft, concerned voice, resting a hand on his arm. "Nightmare?" She knew him so well. It might have made him smile, had the pall of his dream not still been hanging over him.

"Yeah," he managed, voice hoarse.

"Oh, Oliver," Felicity whispered. There was so much just in those two words- sorrow, sympathy, compassion, love- that it made Oliver's heart ache. He was grateful, though, that she didn't ask if he wanted to talk about it. He suspected she knew that the answer would be no. He rolled his shoulders, as if his dream had physical weight that he could shake off of them.

"We should get going," he said. "If we want to catch Lucifer while he's not busy, we need to get to Lux before it opens."

"Why do you know so much about the habits of nightclub owners?" Felicity asked. Oliver didn't have to turn and look at her to know that she was smiling.

"I used to be one," he said. "Don't you remember?" He turned and kissed her on the cheek, then moved past her to get dressed. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Felicity make the bed and tidy everything up, to make things easier for the hotel staff. It was just one of the many things he loved about her, how considerate she was.

They arrived at Lux to find the doors unlocked, though it wouldn't be open for business for another few hours. Oliver supposed that Lucifer, being the Devil, didn't have to worry about his place of business being robbed, especially since- according to Constantine- one of his bartenders was a demon. When they entered, the first thing they saw was Lucifer seated at a glossy black grand piano, swaying in time to the music he was playing and apparently lost in his own world. Felicity cleared her throat, the sound echoing in the empty nightclub. The music stopped abruptly, and Lucifer turned to spot them standing by the door.

"Back so soon?" he asked. "Any luck finding information on that mysterious adversary of mine?"

"None," Felicity answered bluntly. "Of course, it's a little hard to find the guy when you didn't see fit to provide me with his name, at least."

"I can't provide what I don't have," Lucifer said evenly, apparently unaffected by Felicity's evident frustration.

"Then how the hell do you suggest I find him?" Felicity snapped. Oliver rested a calming hand on her shoulder. She looked back at him for a moment before turning back to Lucifer and fixing him with a pointed glare, a silent demand for an answer. Lucifer shrugged lazily, seemingly unconcerned with the specifics of the investigative process.

"Have you tried setting a trap?" he asked. "If you made it known that you were seeking someone who grants favors, I'm sure he would find his way to you eventually."

"That's...actually not a bad idea," Felicity said. She cocked her head to one side, considering.

"You'd have to make it particularly enticing," Lucifer put in. "The sort of favor, perhaps, that normally only I would have the ability to grant. If there's one thing about this man that may be counted upon, it's his ego."

"So you're saying it's a point of pride for this guy that he's able to achieve through ordinary means what I assume you do through supernatural ones?" Felicity asked.

"Precisely," Lucifer agreed, inclining his head in a half nod.

"Well, this trip turned out to be more productive than I was expecting," Felicity muttered. Oliver couldn't say that he disagreed with her. He'd suggested paying Lucifer a visit on the off chance that he might know something they didn't, but he hadn't actually been expecting the trip to yield anything useful.

"Glad I could be of service," Lucifer said with an amused smile. The statement, while cordial, was clearly meant as a dismissal. As far as Lucifer went, this seemed to be par for the course. They had both reached the point where they had stopped questioning his odd quirks, so they left without a goodbye. They had work to do, after all.

"Okay," Felicity said, back in their hotel room, sitting cross legged in the desk chair. "I've put out a request in every place on the Internet I could think to put something like that."

"So now we wait?" Oliver asked.

"Now we wait," Felicity confirmed, nodding. Oliver kissed her on the top of her head and edged himself onto the bed, one leg hanging over the edge, the other folded underneath him. They settled in to wait, Felicity passing the time by browsing aimlessly on her phone, Oliver by alternating between pacing the length of their hotel room and reading, though it became clear when he went an hour without turning a single page that he wasn't having the best luck focusing enough to actually do anything that even resembled reading. A few hours later, around midnight, when both of them were drowsing nearly to the point of falling asleep, something on the desk dinging sound.

"We got a hit," Felicity announced, perhaps unnecessarily. "He said, and I quote, 'I am intrigued by your offer'. He wants us to meet him in the boathouse under the Santa Monica pier this time tomorrow."

"I left my gear at home," Oliver said.

"I know," Felicity reminded him, "but that's okay. It's probably better that you meet him as Oliver Queen and not the Green Arrow at this point anyway. We don't want to show our hand too soon."

"Right," Oliver said. Makes sense." He took a deep breath, his shoulders lifting. Letting it out in a heavy sigh, he said, "So we're doing this." Felicity nodded.

"To be honest, I didn't expect it to happen so soon," she said. "Usually it takes a lot longer before we come face to face with whoever we're up against." Oliver nodded in agreement.

"It'll be fine," Felicity added, noticing the unease he'd been trying to hide. "If anything goes wrong, I can text Barry and he can run your gear over here before our mysterious friend has time to do anything to either of us."

"It's not us I'm worried about," Oliver muttered, but let the matter lie.


	5. Chapter 5

"Lucifer!"

Lucifer tried to ignore the way some small part of his soul- if indeed he still had one- leapt at the sound of that voice.

"Detective!" he said with his usual enthusiasm, turning to face her. The anger in her expression and posture took him aback, but he breezed on. "What brings you here this fine afternoon? Do we have another case?"

"Not exactly," Chloe snapped, throwing an open file folder down on the table in front of Lucifer, where it landed with a loud _smack_. Lucifer looked it over, a pit opening in his stomach. It contained photographs, witness statements, criminal confessions, all pertaining to the man the Queens were hunting at his behest.

"Explain this," Chloe said, jabbing a finger at the file. " _Now_." Still her anger confused him. Until it dawned on him.

"Detective," he said, the word coming out as an imploring whisper. " _Chloe_. You can't seriously believe that _I_ did this?" Chloe's only reaction to Lucifer's use of her given name was a slight widening of her eyes, though he was sure she could count on one hand the number of times he had used it. It was precious to him, her name. Something he wasn't worthy of speaking, except under very select circumstances.

"The statements in here mention a man who called himself the Devil, and making deals with him," Chloe said, voice taut. "That's _your_ MO, Lucifer." Lucifer looked deep into her pale blue eyes and saw beyond the anger in them, to find hurt. Hurt and betrayal and fear. His heart squeezed in his chest.

"Chloe," he said, risking using her name a second time. "I know what it looks like, but I assure you, _I didn't do this_." His eyes flashed red before he managed to rein in his temper. Chloe leaned back away from him, just slightly. From the pain in his chest, she may as well have just stabbed him in the heart.

"I want to believe that, Lucifer," she said, her voice quivering with the emotions Lucifer had seen in her eyes, the ones she was clearly trying desperately to keep in check. "I really do. But that's not what the evidence says."

"Detective," Lucifer implored, not willing to chance using her name again. He held her face between his hands- the most non platonic contact he'd risked since finding out that his father had put Chloe in his path- and looked deep into her eyes. "You know I would never lie to you. Please. I need you to trust me on this. I didn't do this, but I _will_ find the person who did and ensure that he is properly punished. I promise." It didn't escape him how Chloe had gone still beneath his hands, likely considering her next move.

"Alright," she said, biting out the word. She jerked her head back, putting distance between them. Physical and emotional- he saw the careful, emotionless mask that slipped over her features as she pulled away. "Fine. I'll trust you on this. But if anyone else in the precinct starts investigating you in connection to it, I won't stop them. Deal?" That last statement might have hurt him, had he not known her so well. Above all, she wished to see justice done, no matter who may have committed the crime.

"Making a deal with the Devil, Detective?" Lucifer asked with a lascivious smile, trying to distance himself from the thoughts swirling through his head.

" _No_ ," Chloe said. It wasn't a response to his query, but a command. "You will _not_ joke like that. Not after what I just showed you- at the risk of my job, by the way." Her hands clenched into fistst at her sides, but not before Lucifer saw that they were shaking.

"Apologies, Detective," he said in a soft voice. "That was in poor taste."

"Yeah, you're damn right," Chloe said, the shaky quality of her voice betraying the intensity of her emotions. She turned on her heel and marched out of Lux, her shoulders high and tense and her back as straight and unmoving as a steel rod.

Some time later, Lucifer sat at his piano, on his third glass of scotch, trying desperately to drown out the memory of the hurt and anger and betrayal in Chloe's eyes with music and alcohol. He couldn't. It was stuck there, as inescapable- and as maddening- as the supposed word of his father that humanity wouldn't stop touting. His every breath seemed to whisper the apology he so desperately wished to give her.

Then, miraculously, he heard, "Lucifer." It was softer than it had been before, with no anger in it. A plea, rather than a demand. He turned to face Chloe, smiling because she expected him to be, expected to see the facade of the unflappable Lucifer Morningstar, whose troubles slid off of him like water off of a duck's back.

"Drop the act, Lucifer," Chloe said in a tired voice.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Detective," Lucifer lied, with a levity he did not feel. When had Chloe learned to see through him so easily? She looked askance at him, eyes as weary as her voice had been, and Lucifer decided that there was no reason to continue the charade when it clearly wasn't working. He sighed, his shoulders slumping, the fake smile falling from his face.

"Why are you here, Detective?" he asked, his voice as tired as Chloe's had been.

"I don't know," Chloe said, shifting from one foot to the other, and Lucifer heard the truth of her words in the tone of her voice. "I just...we didn't part on very good terms, and I feel like that's my fault."

"You were only doing your job, Detective," Lucifer replied, shaking his head vigorously. He did not wish for her to feel any guilt for doing what she was supposed to do. "You have nothing to apologize for." Chloe blinked.

"Oh," she said in a small voice, as though she'd been expecting a diffferent response. "Anyway, I...my captain got wind of the case. I assured him that you aren't responsible. That you would never do something like that. I should have known that in the first place, but-" She cut herself off with a shrug. Lucifer stared at her for a moment, overcome with emotion. Then, almost before he knew he was moving, he crossed the space between them, took her face in his hands, and kissed her.

"Lucifer…" Chloe said when he pulled back. No doubt she was remembering when she had kissed him on the beach, when he'd still believed that what they had was real. Before he'd learned the truth.

"Thank you," Lucifer said fervently, before she had a chance to finish gathering her thoughts. He feared that within the next few minutes, when she spoke again, he would come to regret his actions.

"You...you've been keeping me at arm's length for months," Chloe finally managed. "For _months_. Why this, now? Why the sudden change?"

"I don't know," Lucifer admitted. "I suppose words simply didn't quite convey the depths of my gratitude." He smiled then, a real smile this time.

"Why don't you say thank you like that more often?" Chloe teased. Her expression turning serious, she added, "You've been so distant lately, and I was afraid…" She trailed off, gesturing vaguely with one hand.

"I am truly sorry, Detective," Lucifer said, understanding what she was finding herself unable to articulate, "for any distress I have caused you. It was never my intention to hurt you." He hoped Chloe could hear in his voice how deeply he felt the truth of his words. The last thing he had ever desired was to cause her pain. Chloe threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. He froze, caught of guard for a moment, but reciprocated the gesture, enclosing her in the protective circle of his arms.

"I wish we could stay this way forever," Chloe whispered, resting her head against his chest.

"If I could find a way to make that happen, I would," Lucifer promised her, his voice heavy with affection. "You know I would do anything for you, Detective."


	6. Chapter 6

Oliver crept through through the boathouse, Felicity close behind. He hated the darkness and the crashing of the wave. They made it next to impossible to identify any possible traps or ambushes. He didn't like feeling so vulnerable in the field, especially with Felicity there.

"Thank you for meeting me," spoke a voice in the darkness. A moment later, the owner of the voice stepped out into a bar of moonlight slanting through the boathouse. He was pale where Lucifer was dark- white suit instead of black, light hair instead of dark, blue eyes instead of obsidian ones- but he had the same air of danger about him, the same wicked, dagger sharp smile. He even had the same accent, though that sounded as though it might be fake. "Though I must admit, I was expecting Star City's vigilante, not its mayor." Oliver felt a chill race down his spine.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"Don't play dumb, Mr. Queen," the man said. "It ill becomes you. Like our mutual friend Lucifer Morningstar, I have ways of obtaining information." There was a very distinct threat in his voice.

"What do you want?" Oliver growled, responding to that threat despite his best efforts not to give the man he faced the satisfaction.

"For you to call off this ridiculous crusade," the man in white said. He spread his hands. "You've seen me. I exist. There's no reason for you to continue attempting to interfere in my business."

"Lucifer wants you stopped," Oliver said bluntly.

"And why should Mr. Morningstar's desires be any concern of yours?" the man asked. "Since you have a reputation for being damnably obstinate, let me put it to you this way- if you don't stop of your own accord, I will _make_ you." His words left the distinct impression that the threat he was leveling was not against Oliver himself. Without thinking, he reached out behind him toward Felicity, as if to shield her or keep her back. Their adversary zeroed in on the movement. His smile was deadly.

"Ah yes," he said. "You understand."

"Felicity," Oliver hissed in an urgent voice, turning his head toward her.

"On it," she replied, pulling out her phone to text Barry.

"I wouldn't do that," the man in white warned. "If you do _anything_ to prevent me from leaving, neither of you will make it out of here alive." He leveled his gaze on Oliver. "And I will kill her first and make _you_ watch." Oliver froze. For a moment, he wasn't in the boathouse. He was in a cold, damp dungeon, hearing Adrian Chase say "She didn't even know I was in her apartment." He was in a high rise office building, watching the Count reach back to jab needles full of Vertigo into Felicity's neck. He was on a boat, watching plumes of smoke and fire rising up from the shore of Lian Yu, desperately calling Felicity's name over the comms, hoping against hope to hear her voice calling back to him.

"Oliver." Felicity's voice brought him back to the present. Their enemy's smile had shifted from deadly to calculating. Oliver lifted his hands in surrender, gesturing for Felicity to put her phone away. She did, without a word of protest. It was clear how precarious the situation was.

"Good," Lucifer's antagonist said with a pleased nod. "I am glad you are not so stubborn as to be _completely_ unreasonable. He was met with silence. They both knew better than to respond and risk provoking him.

"I will leave you with one final warning," he said after a moment. "Do _not_ go to Lucifer about what transpired here. I _will_ find out, and you _will_ regret it." He stood there for another minute, letting his threat sink in, then turned and disappeared from sight. He didn't leave through any discernible exit. He seemed to simply disappear, there one instant and gone the next, leaving them alone with the darkness and the crashing of the surf.

"Oliver!" Felicity called. She had to jog to keep up with the rapid pace he'd set after they'd left the boathouse, eager to put as much distance between them and it as possible. She drew even with him and caught his elbow, jerking him to a halt.

"Oliver," she implored, moving in front of him, her hand still on his arm. "What happened back there?"

"That guy threatened to kill you and make me watch," Oliver said carefully, wary of stirring up memories again.

"I heard," Felicity said, with a bluntness in her tone that she most likely did not intend.

"And for a moment...I wasn't in the boathouse," Oliver went on. "I was in a dungeon hearing Chase threaten you, and I was back at Queen Consolidated watching the Count about to inject you with Vertigo, and...I was on that boat, calling your name over the comms, desperately hoping that you would answer me-" His voice cracked. He drew in a shaky breath.

"Hey," Felicity soothed, reaching up to cradle his cheek. "It's okay. I'm right here."

"It's terrifying how easy it is for the people we go after to get to me," Oliver said in a low voice, leaning into her touch, his eyes drifting closed. "All they have to do is threaten you and I'm helpless. I came so close to losing you...I don't know what I would do if I did. I don't think I'd have the strength to survive it."

"No point worrying about something that hasn't happened, is there?" Felicity asked. "Right now we're fine. Everything's fine. Let's just work with that." She stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed Oliver on the forehead, then stepped back. The smile on his face was hard to describe. It was almost...rapturous.

"We need to figure out what to do next," she said matter of factly. "Lucifer needs to know about what happened." Oliver tensed.

"We can't go to him with this," he said, his voice tinged with fear. "You heard what that guy said- he'll make us regret it. I don't want to find out how."

"He still needs to know this information," Felicity pointed out. "Somehow." She tapped her foot against the ground, thinking. "What if we're not the ones to tell him? Could we get someone to pass the information on to him on our behalf?"

"That might work," Oliver conceded. "If Constantine's still in town, he could get the message to him." Felicity nodded and looked at him expectantly. He sent Constantine a text message, because he trusted the encryption Felicity had put on it that prevented it from being hacked into implicitly, but feared an actual conversation could be listened in on. It might have been overcautious, but overcaution had saved his life a hundred times over. Constantine's response was a single word. _Fine_.

"It's done," he announced. "Lucifer should be getting word of this any day now." Felicity nodded.

"So I guess now we wait to see what he does with the information?" she asked.

"Now we wait," Oliver confirmed.


	7. Chapter 7

For the second time in as many weeks, Constantine found himself in Lucifer Morningstar's bed. He'd come to Lux to deliver news from the Queens, but he had something else on his mind as well, a question that he was burning to ask but was afraid to put words to. And so he'd distracted himself by throwing himself at Lucifer, knowing that he never turned down an opportunity for meaningless sex. But, as distractions always were, that had been temporary, and now Constantine found himself drowning in a hurricane of his own thoughts.

"John?" Lucifer asked. His voice was soft in a way Constantine had never heard before. It was almost as if he cared. "What's on your mind? You mentioned that you had a message for me?"

"Right," Constantine grunted, managing to pull himself out of the swirling tides. "Yeah. The Queens met that mysterious adversary of yours."

"Their trap worked?" Lucifer asked. There was something like eagerness in his voice. "Did they get his name? Could they describe him to a sketch artist?"

"Yes," Constantine replied. "No, and no. Well actually, in regards to that last one, I'm sure they _could_ , but they won't."

"Why not?" Lucifer demanded. His tone had shifted from eagerness to anger.

"He threatened them," Constantine said simply. "Told them that if they told anyone about what had happened, but especially you, they would regret it. That's why I'm here. It was the only way to get the information to you without him knowing."

"Bloody hell," Lucifer snarled in frustration. "And I don't suppose he happened to mention what his plan is?" Constantine shook his head by way of answer.

"Damn it!" Lucifer shouted, getting up from the bed, and starting to get dressed. "Damn it all to Hell!" Constantine winced in spite of himself.

"I'm sorry John," Lucifer said, noticing it. That odd softness was in his voice again. "Poor choice of words." Constantine didn't speak for a minute, because there it was. The question he'd been yearning to ask but was afraid to. It was staring him in the face now. He felt himself sinking down into a deep weariness that dragged at his soul like a lead weight.

"How is she?" he managed finally.

"She's fine," Lucifer responded immediately. He didn't have to ask who Constantine was talking about. "Doing splendidly, I might say. I'm sure Father would have expected she'd be tortured like all the other souls in Hell, but she was never supposed to be there in the first place, so I've allowed her to grow up as a normal child would, albeit in my realm rather than this one." He paused, still only half dressed, and studied Constantine for a moment.

"But that guilt won't go away, will it?" he asked.

"No. Never," Constantine replied fervently. "An innocent girl was damned to Hell because I got in over my head and was too bloody stubborn to admit it. You said it yourself- she was never supposed to be there."

"I could make a comment about letting that go," Lucifer said, "but I know you would never listen."

"Since when do you care?" Constantine snapped, his guilt making him hostile.

"John," Lucifer said, again with that strange softness. "I have always cared." The confession threw Constantine for a loop. He wasn't sure how to respond.

"You could at least say _something,"_ Lucifer said after the silence had stretched on for a while. "It's not...easy for me to admit that I care about someone."

"Why?" Constantine snarked. "Because caring interferes with your persona?" Lucifer shook his head.

"Because when I care about someone, it puts them in danger," he said, voice grave.

"Save your worry for someone who needs it, Luci," Constantine said sharply. "I can take care of myself."

"You have to stop doing that, John," Lucifer said solemnly. "You _have_ to stop using hostility to distance yourself whenever you think someone might be starting to care about you."

"You first," Constantine shot back. Lucifer didn't respond, because although that had been a particularly low blow, it was nevertheless accurate. Constantine was adept at hitting people right where it hurt the most. It was a skill that, in his angrier, more bitter moments, he was quite proud of. The silence lengthened, heavy with things that needed to be said but that neither of them dared to speak aloud.

"I should go," Constantine said finally, breaking it. He rolled over to where his clothes were laying in a crumpled heap and started to get dressed.

"Wait," Lucifer said suddenly, leaning over the bed and grabbing Constantine's arm. "Stay. Please. Just for tonight."

Constantine twisted around to study Lucifer over his shoulder. There was desperation in his obsidian eyes. And loneliness. It was like looking into a mirror. He sighed. He didn't respond to Lucifer's request, except to pull his arm out of his grip and finish getting dressed. He hesitated as he was about to get up from the bed. He knew he should leave. Allowing himself to become entangled with Lucifer was dangerous. It was messy. It might very well get him killed. The smart thing to do would be to make himself scarce before that could happen. Lucifer would find someone else to distract him. Or multiple someones. But he was John Constantine. He did stupid in spades.

"Alright," he said, falling back into the bed, fully clothed. "Fine." Lucifer's response was a beatific smile. Constantine found that he preferred his usual dangerously seductive one. At least with that one he could still pretend that he was just another one of Lucifer's conquests.

"Don't smile at me like that," he said, voice tense. "I don't want to mean something to you.

"Too late," Lucifer murmured, watching him with those glittering black eyes. Constantine sighed and rolled over to face away from him. He could feel his eyes boring into his back, but he refused to turn back toward him. He needed a moment of even the illusion of privacy to contemplate the enormous mistake he had likely made. He knew that he was in for a long night.


	8. Chapter 8

John was long gone- he'd left hours ago- but the scent of brimstone, ash, and tobacco smoke that he carried with him everywhere he went still lingered in the air, and so Lucifer found himself with his mind on the Hellblazer. It had been foolish of him to open up about how much he truly cared about him. He should have known that it would make him balk. He wasn't Chloe, after all. It had become painfully clear, when John had fled at the first hint of daylight, that he had only stayed last night as a courtesy to Lucifer, and a paltry one at that. He was distracted from his musings by Chloe entering the penthouse. She paused briefly near the door, wrinkling her nose at the scent in the air.

"What brings you by, Detective?" Lucifer asked. "Surely, with it being the weekend, it isn't work related." Chloe shook her head.

"Has it ever occured to you that maybe I might have reasons to be here that have nothing to do with work?" she asked, her smile making it clear that she was teasing. "Trixie wanted me to invite you over for movie night."

"Trixie wanted you to?" Lucifer asked, raising an eyebrow. Chloe fidgeted, eyes downcast.

"I want you to come too," she admitted. A few hours ago, Lucifer would have wondered why she seemed so hesitant to tell him that she wanted him around. Now, he understood.

"I'd be delighted," he said. A change of pace and scenery, he decided, might do him good. It might at least allow him to stop moping about John. Weekends were, of course, some of the busiest nights at Lux, but he trusted his employees to be able to run it without him for a night. He was coming to find that he rather preferred the prospect of a quiet night with Chloe and her offspring than another one of crazed partying anyway.

"Great!" Chloe said. She seemed surprised that he'd agreed to come. "I'll see you tonight then?"

"You have my word, Detective," Lucifer replied.

That night, Lucifer arrived at Chloe's house at the appointed time and rang the bell. From inside, he heard the excited patter of Trixie's footsteps running toward the door, followed by Chloe's slower tread.

"Lucifer!" Trixie cried excitedly when Chloe opened the door, throwing her arms around Lucifer's legs. "You came you came you came!"

"Yes, child," Lucifer said awkwardly, extricate himself from her grip. "Do me a favor and go bother Maze for a bit, would you?" Chloe, apparently deciding to come to Lucifer's rescue, dropped down into a crouch so that she was on Trixie's eye level and said, "Monkey, why don't you run inside and get everything set up?"

"Okay!" Trixie replied excitedly, and dashed inside. Chloe ruffled her hair fondly as she passed, then turned to Lucifer.

"Thank you for the save, Detective," Lucifer said, adjusting his cuffs, the closest thing he had to a nervous tic.

"You'd think you'd be used to her antics by now," Chloe replied with a laugh, "but you're welcome." She paused, then said, "I'm glad you came" in a soft, affectionate voice.

"Of course," Lucifer said, deflecting for the moment, but mentally filing Chloe's actions away for later review. "I gave you my word."

"And your word is your bond," Chloe said, quoting him directly.

"Just so," he agreed with a dip of his head. "Shall we?" Chloe nodded and Lucifer followed her inside, closing the door behind him. He glanced around for Maze reflexively. She was nowhere that he could see, not that it mattered. He wasn't here for her.

"Lucifer!" Trixie called, drawing his attention over to the living room. She patted the seat next to her. "Come sit over here by me!"

"I don't think he wants-" Chloe began.

"It's alright Detective," Lucifer interjected. "I will happily sit wherever your offspring would like me to." Chloe raised an eyebrow at that, seeming surprised, but said nothing. Lucifer settled into the seat Trixie had offered him. Chloe sat down beside him, and he felt complete. Like this was where he was meant to be.

Lucifer spent the next few hours watching silly children's movies with Trixie curled up in his lap and Chloe resting her head on his shoulder. He found himself thinking, oddly enough, of the Queens. Of the two of them, Oliver in particular seemed perpetually exhausted, as though he was constantly being pulled in several different directions at once. Lucifer hoped that somewhere in his apparently hectic life he had periods of rest such as this, quiet moments spent with his wife and son. If not, he hoped he could find them somewhere someday. He wasn't sure why he cared. Empathy for others was still an unfamiliar sensation to him.

When Lucifer returned to Lux, he was surprised to find the Queens waiting there for him. The circumstances were remarkably similar to that of their first meeting. They were even seated at the same table as they had been then.

"We need a new plan," Oliver said without preamble when Lucifer approached.

"Hey," Felicity said, but to soothe, not to scold. Even Lucifer could see that Oliver was much more tense than usual. Whatever had happened when the two of them had sprung their trap must have really spooked him. Lucifer felt a twinge of regret for having put him in that position. After a moment of heavy silence, Oliver finally visibly relaxed, if only a little.

"So, you were saying about needing a new plan?" Lucifer asked.

"The guy you're after...he knows you're onto him," Oliver explained. "More specifically, he knows that _we're_ onto him, on your behalf, and we-we can't keep after him. He made it clear what would happen to us if we do."

"So what we need to do," Felicity put in, picking up the thread of the conversation, "is figure out some way of obtaining his name so we can anonymously tip off the police and make him their problem instead of ours."

"Can we even trust the cops though?" Oliver muttered.

"This isn't Star City, Oliver," Felicity reminded him. In response to Lucifer's puzzled frown, she said, "We had a problem back home with a corrupt police force. Most of it was in the pocket of a drug lord, and those members of it that weren't didn't stay on the force for long." Lucifer nodded.

"I'll reach out to Maze," he said, ignoring for the moment the fact that neither of them knew who Maze was. "She recently started a career as a bounty hunter, so I'm sure she has ways of getting the type of information you seek." Oliver and Felicity nodded in understanding.

"Thank you," Oliver said, getting up from the table. His thanks sounded much more fervent than Lucifer would have expected it to be. What exactly had his mysterious adversary threatened him with, that the prospect of being able to pass the task of finding him off to someone else filled him with such great relief? Lucifer watched the way Oliver leaned protectively toward Felicity as they left Lux, and wondered if perhaps his enemy's threat had had something to do with her.


	9. Chapter 9

"You okay?" Felicity asked as they left Lux behind them, resting a hand on Oliver's arm. "You seemed really tense back there." Oliver smiled in spite of himself. She'd noticed. Of course she'd noticed. She always did.

"I'm fine," he said. "Just worried."

"Wouldn't be you if you weren't," Felicity replied, getting another smile out of him. "Same stuff as before, or different stuff?"

"Same stuff as before," Oliver said, fidgeting nervously with his wedding ring.

"I'm sorry," Felicity said empathetically. "I know this must be hard for you. I trust Lucifer on this, though. At the very least, I trust his discretion."

"Not Constantine's?" Oliver asked. Felicity shrugged.

"Constantine is...hard to figure out," she said. "Besides, he doesn't seem to be too involved in all of this, so I'm not sure his discretion matters all that much."

"We were able to trust him to get that information to Lucifer though," Oliver pointed out, not sure why he felt the need to defend him.

"That's true," Felicity conceded with a slight nod. "Anyway, I know it's difficult, but you don't need to worry so much. We're fine. He isn't going to come after us. There's no reason for him to- he doesn't know that Lucifer knows about what happened."

"It's not us I'm worried about," Oliver mumbled. "Or even just you." He fell silent, but in response to Felicity's bewildered frown, elaborated with "If he knows that I'm the Green Arrow, what else does he know? _Who_ does he know about?" There was a long pause while Felicity processed his words.

"Oh my God," she said quietly to herself. Then, slightly louder, she asked "You think he might go after William?"

"Or Thea," Oliver said, voice hoarse.

"I wouldn't worry about Thea," Felicity said, clearly trying to make him feel better. "I mean, _we_ don't even know where she is right now."

"That doesn't necessarily guarantee her safety," Oliver countered. "We'd had no idea where William was, either, but Adrian Chase still found him."

"Do you think we're dealing with another Adrian Chase?"

"I'm scared that we might be." Felicity bit her bottom lip anxiously, mulling that over.

"If we _are_ dealing with another Adrian Chase," she said at last, "and he _does_ try to hurt Thea, I'm sure Roy and Nyssa will keep her safe. You trained Roy yourself, remember. And as for Nyssa...well, I'm pretty sure nothing gets past her unless she allows it to."

"But what about William?" Oliver asked, worry and fear still gnawing at his insides. "With us here, who is there to keep _him_ safe?" Felicity sighed. She couldn't find the answer to that.

"He probably won't go after William," she said. It was a paltry form of comfort, but it was all she could offer. "Or Thea. His problem is with Lucifer, not with us."

"But we provoked him…" Oliver protested, trailing off. He appreciated the effort Felicity was putting into easing his fears. He just hated that it wasn't working.

"Can we talk about this later?" he asked. Felicity nodded, that familiar worried crease between her eyebrows, and didn't press the issue. Oliver was grateful for that. He was grateful for Felicity in general, but in that moment especially that.

By the time they reached the hotel, they had both slipped into a dark, pensive mood. Oliver found that he rather missed the presence of Felicity's usual cheerful chatter.

"You should call Thea," she suggested, seemingly out of the blue, when they'd settled in for the night. "It might help put some of your fears to rest." Oliver nodded. He wasn't sure how much it would help, but it was a good idea.

"Ollie," Thea said after the first ring. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"I can't just call you because I miss you?" Oliver asked, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards in the smallest of smiles.

"I mean, you _could_ ," Thea conceded. "But I'm pretty sure you didn't."

"Yeah, you're right," Oliver admitted. He explained the situation as succinctly and concisely as possible.

"That sounds terrible," Thea said when he finished. "It must really scare you that you don't know who this guy is or what he knows or even what he's capable of."

"Insightful as always, Speedy," Oliver told her, and she laughed, though without humor.

"Well, I've had a lot of practice," she said.

"How are things going with you?" Oliver asked, eager to change the subject.

"Good," Thea said. "It's been oddly quiet around here lately, actually. We have yet to encounter any trouble, and at this point I'm half afraid that we'll reach the first Lazarus pit to find that the Thanatos Guild beat us to it and already resurrected my father." There was genuine worry in her voice, despite her seemingly casual manner.

"I'm sure you'd have no problem putting him back in the ground if that happens," Oliver said. It was an odd way to offer reassurance, but he knew his sister well enough to know that it was what she needed to hear.

"Thanks Ollie," she said.

"You're welcome," Oliver replied. "Stay safe out there, okay?"

"I will," Thea promised, and Oliver had no reason not to believe her. Knowing that she would be alright took a little bit of the weight of worry off of his shoulders.

"Feeling better?" Felicity asked. Oliver nodded.

"That helped a lot," he said. "Thank you for suggesting it."

"You're welcome," Felicity replied, her voice soft and affectionate. "I'm glad I found a way to help you."

"You always do," Oliver said, his expression serious. He tugged Felicity toward him, and they ended up curled up together on the bed, watching something stupid on TV while Oliver tried to squash the last bits of worry that still clung to him. He knew now that his sister was and would be safe, but that still left the well-being of his son in question.

"William will be fine," Felicity said, as if she sensed his thoughts. "Between John and Lyla and the team, he's practically got an army defending him. Not to mention Raisa. I'd like to see anyone try to get to him with Raisa around."

"I hope you're right," Oliver mumbled.

"You know that I am," Felicity told him, the certainty in her tone leaving no room for argument. They spoke no more on the matter, and in truth Oliver was glad to be able to let it lie for the time being.


	10. Chapter 10

"You just couldn't stay away, could you?" Lucifer asked, his tone teasing. He slid onto the bar stool next to Constantine's and laced his fingers through his. Constantine stared at their intertwined hands for a moment, but didn't pull away.

"I keep finding myself drawn back here," he reluctantly admitted. "Which is bloody hilarious considering we've both got people who ought to be drawing us away from each other. It's like the entire goddamn universe is having a laugh at my expense." Lucifer shot him a quizzical look.

"I know about your police detective," he said. Lucifer shook his head. Apparently that wasn't the reason for that look.

"Who's drawing you away from me?" he asked. There was a possessiveness in his tone that Constantine didn't think he liked. He paused. How to describe the captain of the Waverider to someone who'd never met her? Finally, he settled on, "Her name is Sara," and left it at that. Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

"That's all I get?" he asked. "Just her name?"

"That's all," Constantine confirmed. He set his mouth in a thin, hard line. He knew that Lucifer was going to want to pursue this, but he didn't want to talk about Sara Lance right now. Lucifer shifted uncomfortably on his bar stool. It was a strange sight. Constantine didn't think he'd ever see the Devil himself feeling nervous.

"Much as my curiosity is piqued," Lucifer said at last, "I won't ask. I'll just have to accept that if you want to talk about this Sara person, you will." It wasn't exactly a promise that he would drop the matter completely, but it's Lucifer, so Constantine figured that was as close as he was likely to get.

"What's been going on with you lately?" he asked. "You're not usually so...considerate." Lucifer shrugged.

"I'm trying something new," he said.

"This is because of your police detective, isn't it?" Constantine asked. He wasn't jealous, not exactly. He didn't really know _what_ he was. Lucifer looked like he was considering whether he wanted to answer that.

"Yes," he confirmed after a moment. "It's because of Chloe." Constantine noticed the way he said her name, lingering on its syllables. It's the same way Oliver said Felicity's name, the same way Constantine had sometimes caught himself saying Lucifer's. He wondered if that meant he was in love with him. He hoped not. Being in love with the Devil was not something he wanted to contemplate.

"Any word from Maze?" he asked in an attempt to distract himself.

"I think she'd rather you'd call her Mazikeen, if you call her anything at all," Lucifer remarked instead of answering. "'Maze' is a little...familiar for you."

"Because I hunt demons and that makes her not like me," Constantine grumbled. "I get it. Just answer the damn question."

"Not yet," Lucifer said. There was a touch of impatience in his voice. "But then, it has only been a few days. Maze is probably just busy." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"I'm sure," Constantine said dryly, deciding to go along with it. "What's the plan when you do finally hear from her?"

"The Queens are going to anonymously tip off the police," Lucifer said. "I'm sure Chloe will take care of it from there." Constantine wondered why Lucifer automatically assumed that his crush object with a badge would be the detective on the case. The LAPD had multitudes of detectives, after all.

"Because she already is," Lucifer said as if reading his mind. "She started working it on her own shortly after you decided to get the Queens involved."

"I decided to get _Oliver_ involved," Constantine corrected harshly, not sure why he felt that he needed to defend himself, "and only because I knew _I_ couldn't help you. I didn't know he was going to bring his wife along with him."

"Well, he did," Lucifer said. Constantine couldn't tell if he felt annoyed by that fact or resigned to it. "And with her present, the most recent turn of events has made him quite...skittish, which is a word I didn't think I'd ever be using to describe the Star City vigilante. It seems that during their confrontation with my mysterious adversary, he made some threats, and Oliver's concern is more with how those threats may affect the lives and safety of his wife and son more than his own."

"Is that why he's been insisting on so much secrecy?" Constantine asked. Lucifer nodded.

"He's worried about what might happen to those he loves if the man they're hunting finds out that he told me about what happened that night in the boathouse," he said.

"Never in a million years would I have imagined Oliver Queen as a family man," Constantine grunted.

"Too much of a playboy?" Lucifer asked with a teasing smile. Constantine shook his head. He had never known Oliver when he was a playboy. He had already left that aspect of himself behind by the time Constantine had met him on Lian Yu.

"Too afraid to love," he said. "Too afraid that allowing himself to care about someone would put them in danger."

"I know the feeling," Lucifer mumbled.

"So do I," Constantine said. "But I suppose we are all learning better."

"Some of us more quickly than others," Lucifer pointed out.

"Just so," Constantine agreed. They lapsed into silence. Constantine didn't consider himself to be a very talkative person, and after touching on such a heavy topic, he found it difficult to pick up the thread of the conversation again. Lucifer, however, had no such issue.

"Well, here's hoping this whole business gets resolved soon," he said. Constantine raised his glass in a mock toast, then downed the last of his drink.

"I have some... business to attend to," Lucifer said, getting up from his seat. The evasiveness with which he spoke wasn't lost on Constantine. "Will you still be here when I return?" Constantine knew that he wanted a definitive answer, perhaps even a promise, but that was the one thing he knew he could not give him.

"Maybe," was all he said, and watched Lucifer walk away, grateful that he hadn't pressed the issue.


	11. Chapter 11

Lucifer was startled awake by the heavy metal guitar riffs of his ringtone. He blinked, trying to orient himself to his unfamiliar surroundings. He wasn't in his penthouse. It wasn't until John stirred beside him and mumbled something about turning that bloody thing off that he remembered he'd spent the night with him.

"His name is Michael Samson," Maze said on the other end of the line, without preamble, when Lucifer at last answered his phone. "And you tell Oliver Queen that he owes me for that information. It didn't come cheap." Lucifer sighed. It was always a hassle explaining the demonic system of equivalent exchange to the uninitiated.

"Alright," he said. "I'll make sure he knows. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Maze said, and her tone suggested that she truly didn't want him to mention this conversation ever again. She hung up before Lucifer could say anything, the only sound a _click_ as she disconnected.

"Where are you going?" John mumbled when Lucifer edged himself out of the bed to get dressed.

"I need to meet with the Queens," Lucifer explained in a whisper. John was still mostly asleep, and he didn't want to disturb him. "I have information for them."

"Well, you can tell Oliver that he's a right bastard," John said as Lucifer reached the door. "Stealing you away from me." Lucifer paused. John said things when he was drunk or half asleep that he would never say while sober or fully awake. Surely this had to be one of them. Lucifer knew that John would never have allowed those words to cross his lips if he had been fully aware. It was best not to dwell on them too much. Shaking his head, Lucifer slipped quietly through the door and left John to sleep.

He met the Queens at a local park. Meeting them at Lux like usual felt like tempting fate and being out in the open might make it more difficult for Lucifer's now not so mysterious adversary to interfere if he got a mind to do so. At least there was no place for him to hide, which Lucifer thought might make Oliver feel more comfortable if nothing else. It was difficult to carry on a conversation with someone who only had half a mind on it, the other half preoccupied with watching for threats. It would be easier for everyone if there _were_ no threats to watch for.

Lucifer didn't have to search for very long before he spotted the Queens. They were sitting side by side on a bench, their shoulders brushing every so often. Felicity had her hand over Oliver's, and for once he didn't look like he expected to be attacked at any second. Lucifer was pleased to see that that, at least, he had guessed correctly. On the other hand, if he was being entirely honest with himself, he knew that he should attribute the absence of Oliver's usual hypervigilance more to Felicity's presence than his choice of meeting place.

"Maze just got in touch with me," Lucifer said, approaching the bench. "The name of the man we're looking for is Michael Samson." Oliver and Felicity exchanged surprised looks.

"I was starting to wonder if he even _had_ a name," Felicity muttered. No one offered commentary on that statement. It was clear that they were all thinking it.

"What will you do now?" Lucifer asked. He knew their plan, of course- he'd been there when they'd come up with it- but he found that he needed the reassurance of hearing it again.

"We'll turn his name over to the police," Oliver spoke up, "and they'll take it from there." Lucifer nodded.

"Make sure it gets to Chloe Decker," Lucifer said. "She's the detective on the case. I trust her completely." He didn't say why that was the case. It wasn't relevant to the conversation.

"If that's the case, I don't think that'll be a problem," Felicity pointed out. "If she's the one assigned to this case, I'm sure any information regarding it will find its way to her eventually."

"Clearly you have more faith in bureaucracy than I do," Lucifer muttered. "But nevertheless, I'm sure you're right. No need to worry myself or you unnecessarily." Clapping his hands together, he added, "Well, I believe that's everything, so if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to." The dismissal was clear, but for some reason Lucifer had to restrain himself from telling them that those "other matters" were where he stood with John, relationship wise. The compulsion, though easily quashed, puzzled him. Since when did he trouble himself with such matters, or feel the need to share them?

He was standing in front of John's door when he received a text from Chloe. It read _Do you want to tell me why I just got an anonymous tip providing me with the name of my unsub?_

 _I know nothing about that, Detective,_ Lucifer replied.

 _You told me you wouldn't lie to me_ , Chloe said. Even in a text, she sounded irritated and hurt.

 _And I meant that_ , Lucifer said, _but the people with whom I'm working wish to remain anonymous for their safety and for the safety of their family. Their names are to be left out of this until the investigation is over. I'm sorry Chloe. Surely you must know that I would tell you if I could._

 _As excuses go, it's not bad_ , Chloe replied. _I'm sorry I got angry with you._

 _There's no need for you to apologize to me_ , Lucifer said. _Ever._ He left it at that. There was no way for Chloe to mistake his meaning. He tried John's door, found it unlocked, and strode in without announcing himself. He found John standing with his feet shoulder width apart in a fighting stance, his hands up, ready to hurl spells at whatever he'd thought was coming through the door to attack him.

"Are we going to talk about what you said to me before I left this morning?" Lucifer asked by way of greeting, watching John relax out of his fighting stance. There was a certain fluid grace to his movements that Lucifer would have happily observed for an eternity.

"And what was that?" John asked. Lucifer couldn't tell if he really didn't remember or was just being facetious.

"You called Oliver a bastard for stealing me away from you," Lucifer said, keeping his tone neutral.

"Did I? "John asked, and this time Lucifer knew that his ignorance was faked. "Well, if I did, I was probably more than half asleep and wasn't thinking about the words coming out of my mouth. It doesn't count for anything now."

"John-" Lucifer began.

"I don't want to talk about it!" John snapped, cutting him off. "Just drop it, Luci." John only called him Luci when he was annoyed with him. He didn't want to drop it, but he did, for John's sake. There was quite a lot, he was realizing, that he was willing to do for John's sake.


	12. Chapter 12

"It feels better to finally know who we're facing, doesn't it?" Felicity asked, breaking the afternoon's comfortable silence. Oliver nodded.

"Should we start packing up to go home?" Felicity asked. Oliver shook his head.

"I want to see this through," he said. "We'll leave when we receive word from Lucifer that the police have Michael Sampson in custody." Felicity nodded.

"Makes sense," she said. They lapsed into silence once more, both of them with their minds on home. Just because Oliver had become set on seeing things through to the end didn't mean that he didn't still miss his friends and family back home in Star City, and just because Felicity agreed with his decision didn't mean she didn't share those feelings. She felt as though she'd been away from them for too long already.

A knock sounded at the door, breaking the silence. Oliver and Felicity glanced at each other, and a brief moment passed before Felicity went to answer it. She pulled the door open quickly and went to stand beside Oliver, presenting a unified front to whoever was outside.

"Relax, you two," Lucifer, gliding into the room in that smooth, unhurried way of his. "It's just me."

"Lucifer!" Felicity said, voicing the surprise both of them felt. Lucifer Morningstar was the last person they'd been expecting their visitor to be. "How did you know where we were staying?" Lucifer just looked at her.

"The Devil has connections," she mumbled. "Right."

"Why are you here?" Oliver asked, cutting right to the point like he always did.

"To release you from any further obligations you may feel you have to me," Lucifer replied. "You have done what John called you here to do. Chloe and the LAPD can handle things from here. Go home, both of you. I'm sure you must be missing your friends and family, and they you." Oliver shook his head.

"I want to see this through," he said. "It's not in my nature to leave when the job's only half done. We'll go home when we receive word from you that the police have Michael Sampson in custody." Lucifer's shoulders lifted in a half shrug.

"Very well," he said, sounding unconcerned. "Suit yourself. But you should call your family. I'm sure your son in particular must be eager to hear from you." Without another word, Lucifer left the same way he'd come in, gliding through the door, smooth and unhurried.

"He's right, you know," Felicity said when he'd gone. "You should call William. He hasn't heard from either of us since we left." Oliver considered her words for a moment, then nodded. Truth be told, he probably would have done as first Lucifer and now Felicity had suggested even if they had not. It would help reassure him that William was safe, that Michael Sampson hadn't sent anyone after him or come after him himself. That sort of thing had happened once already, and Oliver hoped with everything in him that it would not happen again.

"Hey buddy," he said when William picked up on the other end, feeling a rush of relief at the sound of his voice. "I'm going to put you on speaker so Felicity can talk to you too, alright?"

"Okay," William said.

"Hi William!" Felicity piped up from her perch on the bed as Oliver set his phone down on the desk.

"Hi Felicity," William replied.

"How are things going over there?" Felicity asked.

"Fine," William said. "Are you guys going to be coming home soon?"

"That's actually what I called to talk to you about," Oliver put in. "We've got the name of the guy we're looking for, but I don't want to leave until the police have caught him. I want to be absolutely sure he's somewhere where he can't hurt anyone else before we come home."

"Ok," William said. "Do you know how long that will take?"

"I don't," Oliver replied, shaking his head even though William couldn't see him. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay," William said. "I understand. Thanks for letting me know."

"You're welcome," Oliver said.

"Tell Dig and Lyla we said hi," Felicity added.

"I will," William said. "See you...when I see you, I guess." He hung up, leaving them in silence.

"That went well," Felicity said after a moment.

"It did," Oliver agreed, nodding.

"William took the news better than I expected," Felicity admitted.

"He's a big kid," Oliver reminded her. "And he's had to grow up a lot faster than most kids his age." His voice turned somber. Felicity narrowed her eyes, recognizing that he was falling back into his pattern of self-blame.

"That isn't your fault," she said, because she knew that's he was thinking.

"Isn't it though?" Oliver countered. "Think about it. Every single bad thing that's happened to him that's forced him to grow up too fast- Dahrk holding him hostage, Chase kidnapping him, his mother dying- all of it happened _after_ I came into his life."

"That doesn't make those things your fault," Felicity insisted. "You couldn't have possibly have predicted that they would happen."

"Yes, but-" Oliver began.

"No buts," Felicity interrupted. "You don't need to keep carrying the weight of everyone else's misfortunes on your shoulders, Oliver. Not everything that happens to the people in your life is your fault." Oliver shook his head, indicating that he didn't know _how_ to stop carrying everyone else's misfortunes. He'd been doing it for so long that the habit had become ingrained. Felicity sighed.

"I know you don't know how," she said, responding to the statement that he hadn't spoken out loud, "but I promise I'll be here to help you figure it out. After all, isn't that what marriage is about? Helping each other overcome our weaknesses?" Oliver nodded, smiling the smallest of smiles.

"You're right," he said. "That is what it's about. Without you I'd never be able to find my way out of the pits I keep letting myself fall into. Thank you."

"That's not something you _ever_ need to thank me for," Felicity said fervently. "But you're welcome." After a pause, she said, "Aren't you glad that this is almost over? That we get to go home soon?" Oliver's only response was to nod.


	13. Chapter 13

Lucifer shifted impatiently at Chloe's side. She glanced briefly over at him in response to the movement, but quickly returned her attention to the house they were parked in front of- the residence of one Michael Sampson, which they had finally managed to locate after weeks of tireless work on the part of Chloe and the other members of the LAPD assigned to Sampson's case. Unsurprisingly, considering the amount of money he must have made off of his criminal enterprises, his home was a sprawling mansion located in the hills above the Los Angeles city proper, its front lawn neatly manicured, the surrounding property expertly landscaped, the interior of the house no doubt impeccably and tastefully decorated. In short, it was exactly the sort of house that Lucifer would have chosen to live in had he chosen to live in a house instead of in the apartment above Lux. It was a good thing Sampson didn't also own a nightclub, because that would have taking his "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" bit a little too far.

They'd been staking out the mansion all day. At nightfall, Chloe had called in a SWAT team to carefully and discreetly take up positions around the property, knowing that they would need people to cover all the possible escape routes. With a building this large, there was no way they could have done so with just the two of them, and they'd have no chance of bringing Sampson in. Now, they were all watching the house in tense silence, waiting for the signal to go in. As they watched, a human shaped, Michael Sampson sized shadow passed in front of one of the mansion's front windows. Everyone held their breath, waiting for it to move away. When it did, a collective sigh of relief went up from the group. He hadn't seen them. They hadn't been made. Not yet.

"Alright, go, go, go!" Chloe's voice broke the silence as she caught sight of some signal to move in that they all had been waiting for. Lucifer charged out of the car, leaving the door open, pausing only briefly to wait for Chloe to exit the vehicle as well. He put on a burst of speed, tearing through bushes, vaulting over hedges, leaving Chloe far behind him in his determination to reach the front door first.

"Lucifer!" he heard her call after him, but he ignored her. The SWAT team storming the mansion was highly trained, but its members were only human, and Michael Sampson had been evading the police for months now. Lucifer knew he had to get to him first, had to catch him before he could slip through their fingers again. He owed it to John, and to Oliver Queen and his family, to make sure that Michael Sampson was at last brought in and made to face justice for his crimes.

Reaching the door, he broke it down without breaking stride and rushed inside the building. He could hear Chloe's running footsteps behind him as she struggled to catch up. He felt himself slowing and put on another burst of speed, trying to put as much distance between himself and Chloe as possible. He had a feeling he didn't want to be mortal when he confronted Sampson.

Lucifer raced from room to room in the sprawling mansion, desperate to catch any glimpse of his prey. His wings fluttered against his back, beneath his suit jacket and shirt, straining to be free, but indoors like this they'd be more a hindrance than a help. Clattering out into a corridor, he spotted a flash of white rounding a corner, moving away from him. He smiled his wicked Devil's smile. He almost had him.

"Sampson!" he shouted as he came around the corner. His voice boomed in the confined space of the hallway, giving it an intimidating effect that he hadn't intended but was nevertheless appreciated. The man in question stopped dead at the sound of his voice and turned to face him.

"Mr. Morningstar," he said smoothly, just a hint of mockery in his tone. "How...unfortunate that you're here. It means that Oliver Queen didn't heed my warning, and now I'm going to have to punish him for it. After all, threats aren't very effective if one doesn't follow through on them."

"Leave him out of this," Lucifer replied, his voice even, betraying nothing. "I'm only here as Chlo- Detective Decker's partner, and she found you all on her own."

"See, I doubt that very highly," Sampson said. "I'm very good at covering my tracks. I have always been nothing but a whisper, a rumor, a tall tale. Oliver Queen and his wife are the only people who have seen my face. They are the only place the leak could have come from." As he spoke, he backed up slowly, step by step, toward a window set into the wall behind him. In the time it took Lucifer to realize what he was doing, he was diving through the window with a crash, plummeting out of sight in a glittering shower of broken glass. Lucifer let out a wordless cry of anger and frustration and ran to the window through which Sampson had just disappeared. Down below, he saw him hit the ground, roll, and come up standing. Then he ran off into the night. Lucifer swung a leg over the window frame, ready to leap into the air, ready to chase Sampson down from the sky, giving his wings the freedom, they'd strained for earlier. He cut himself on a jagged piece of glass sticking up out of the frame, which told him that Chloe was near even before he heard her call his name. He twisted around in the window frame to see her standing near the bend in the corridor, her gun held out at arm's length in front of her, muzzle pointed at the ground.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Going after Sampson," Lucifer replied simply. "I had him cornered in here when he jumped out the window. I was going to follow him."

"And leap to your death?" Chloe asked, moving toward him.

"This particular window is not that high off the ground," Lucifer replied, shrugging off Chloe's apparent concern. "I saw Sampson make it just fine." After a pause, he added, "I saw him run off in that direction," pointing toward where he'd seen him disappear into the night.

"Well, we've got the property surrounded," Chloe said. "He won't get far." When Lucifer didn't move from his perch inside the window frame, she said, "Now come from there. I'm not having my partner get hurt pulling some reckless stunt." She beckoned him toward her, and though he still wanted to pursue Sampson, he obeyed her command. He was reminded for what must have been the hundredth time just how weak his will was when it came to refusing her.


	14. Chapter 14

The last thing Constantine expected to be doing today was spending his afternoon in the penthouse above Lux, watching Lucifer pace angrily around like a tiger in a cage. And yet, here he was. Every so often, Lucifer would curse in whatever language came to him at the moment. Since he could speak every human language, that gave him a lot to work with.

"Damn it!" he shouted in English. Constantine could see that he was angry enough that, were it not for the fact that many of his possessions were either centuries old or extremely valuable- either sentimentally or monetarily- or both, he would have thrown or broken something by now.

"What happened?" Constantine asked, a spark of concern alighting within him despite his efforts to keep it in check.

"He got away!" Lucifer shouted. "The bloody bastard got away!" A jolt of fear shot through Constantine. After everything that he'd been through and seen, few things scared him anymore, but he knew full well how dangerous Michael Sampson was.

"What?" he asked, the question coming out sounding like a demand.

"I had him cornered, but he slipped through my fingers," Lucifer replied. "I was going to chase after him, but Chloe stopped me. She assured me that he wouldn't get very far since we had his property surrounded…" He trailed off.

"But?" Constantine prompted.

"But," Lucifer replied, " _somehow_ , he managed to slip past the police. Now he's in the wind."

"You found him once," Constantine pointed out. "Couldn't you find him again?"

"No!" Lucifer shouted. He'd stopped pacing for a moment, but started again, limping slightly as he went. Constantine was pretty sure the limp was psychosomatic, since Lucifer couldn't be hurt by anything, he was likely to encounter while participating in a police raid, but he decided not to comment on it.

"Why not?" he asked instead.

"Because it took the LAPD _weeks_ to find Sampson's residence," Lucifer snarled. "And he's not likely to return there now that he knows that we're onto him." Constantine didn't respond, mostly because he knew that Lucifer spoke the truth.

"So what happens now?" he asked. Lucifer shrugged helplessly. The very idea of the Devil himself in a situation where he was helpless was very disturbing.

"I... suppose I'll have to warn Oliver," Lucifer said after a moment.

"Warn him?" Constantine asked. "About what?"

"Do you remember how Oliver used you to get information about Sampson to me after springing that trap on him?" Lucifer asked by way of reply. Constantine nodded.

"Because Sampson threatened his family," he recalled. "Said he'd hurt them if he told you about what had happened." Now it was Lucifer's turn to nod.

"Before he escaped, Sampson mentioned that he'd have to punish Oliver for failing to heed his warning." he said. "That he's the only place the leak of information that allowed the police to find him could have come from, and that, and I quote, 'threats aren't very effective if one doesn't follow through'."

"He sounds like a real piece of work," Constantine said. "I can see now why it upsets you so much that he got away." A pause, then he said, "I'll make the call." Lucifer flashed him a grateful smile as he stepped out onto the penthouse balcony so as to have a modicum of privacy. Oliver at least deserved to not have such a sensitive conversation listened in to on Constantine's end, even by Lucifer.

"Constantine," Oliver said when the call connected, a note of curiosity in his voice.

"Oliver," Constantine replied. "Is your family safe?"

"What?" Oliver asked, clearly confused as to the point of the question.

"Is your family safe?" Constantine repeated, urgency creeping into his tone.

"Well, Felicity is right here with me," Oliver said, still sounding bewildered.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Constantine replied, getting impatient now. "But what about your sister? Your son? Are they safe?"

"Yes," Oliver said. "At least they were the last time I checked in with them."

"And when was that?" Constantine asked.

"I just talked to William a couple of days ago," Oliver replied. "But it's been a few weeks since I last spoke to Thea. Why? Why are you asking me all this?"

"I would check in with them both again," Constantine said instead of answering. "Make sure they're both safe."

"Why?" Oliver asked, a demanding tone creeping into his voice, the fighting spirit that served him well as both mayor and Green Arrow rising to the surface. "What's happened?"

"The LAPD was able to locate Michael Sampson's residence," Constantine said. "They raided it last night in an attempt to bring him in, but… he got away."

"What?" Oliver asked, fear in his voice.

"Based on things he said right before he escaped," Constantine continued, "Lucifer believes that he intends to make good on his threats on your family."

"Because he knows that I didn't heed his warning," Oliver said, sounding more like he was thinking out loud than like he was looking for a response. "He knows that Felicity and I are the only place the leak that eventually led the police to him could have come from."

"I'm afraid so," Constantine said grimly. There was a long silence on Oliver's end of the call.

"Alright," he said at last. "I'll check in with Thea and William again and make sure they're alright, and tell them to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. I can probably get Dig to increase security around William as well."

"Sounds like a wise plan," Constantine replied, nodding.

"Thank you for the warning," Oliver said.

"Don't thank me," Constantine grunted. "Thank Lucifer. Warning you was his idea."

"Alright, well, please thank him for me," Oliver replied.

"Will do," Constantine said, ending the call. Lucifer fixed him with an expectant look when he reentered the penthouse.

"It's done," he said. "Oliver asked me to pass on his thanks to you for the warning." Lucifer nodded, and that was that. All they could do now was wait.


	15. Chapter 15

Felicity watched Oliver the entire time he was on the phone, lower lip caught between her teeth, fidgeting anxiously with her wedding ring, her eyebrows doing the crinkly thing they always did when she was worried. When he hung up, she practically leaped forward in her eagerness to hear the news.

"Thea and William are both safe," Oliver said. "Nyssa and Roy are going to keep an eye out for Sampson, and I've spoken to Dig. He'll arrange to have an ARGUS security detail watching the apartment at all hours either until we return home or until Sampson's in police custody, whichever comes first." Felicity visibly relaxed, a soft sigh of relief escaping her.

"Hey, come here," Oliver whispered, drawing her into his embrace. "We're fine. Everything's fine."

"For now," Felicity replied, voice muffled as she pressed herself against him. "I'm just so scared."

"I know," Oliver said, voice low. "But for now the danger has passed. Let's focus on that for the moment, and worry about the other stuff when the time comes, okay?"

"Okay," Felicity whispered, pulling away from him. She sank down onto the bed, folding her legs up underneath her, and did what she did in times of trouble with no immediate solution- fell into her work. Before long, the clatter of keyboard keys filled the room as she typed furiously, her brilliant mind working a mile a minute on the project before her. Finding himself with little else to do, Oliver paced.

"You're like a caged animal," Felicity observed after a time, voice quiet, her eyes still on the computer screen in front of her. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah," Oliver replied. "I'm just…" He trailed off, gesturing vaguely. Felicity sighed, hit a few keys with an air of finality, and closed her laptop, setting aside her work for the moment.

"I'm sure if something had happened after you called we would have heard about it by now," she said, getting up from the bed to set her laptop back on the desk. Oliver wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure him or herself.

"You're probably right," he said. "Still, I don't like not knowing."

"I know you don't," Felicity said. "But give it a few more hours, and if we've still heard nothing by that time, you'll have your answer." Oliver nodded, glad to have something at least somewhat resembling a plan. The days when he could comfortably sit around idle when there was work that could be done were long since past. Felicity watched him for a moment, studying him with a worried expression, then retrieved her laptop from the desk and returned to her work. Oliver took the opportunity to get caught up on his journaling for the day, which he'd neglected in the rush of activity that had followed Constantine's warning.

Hours passed. Felicity finished whatever it was she was working on and set her laptop once again. Oliver set his journal on the bedside table and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close to him. They lay in the bed in a tangle of limbs, not speaking, breathing in and out in tandem. They had the TV on, but they weren't really watching it. It was nothing more than background noise.

"Do you think everyone's okay?" Felicity asked after a while, breaking the comfortable silence that they'd settled into.

"I'm trusting that you were right," Oliver replied, which was really only half an answer to the question that Felicity had asked. "That after the phone calls I made, if they weren't, we would have heard something by now." Felicity nodded and was silent again. For all his reassurances, though, Oliver couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that something terrible was about to happen. He kept his concerns to himself, however. He didn't want to burden Felicity with them, _especially_ if they turned out to be unfounded.

By nightfall, they had still heard nothing. It was beginning to seem that Constantine's warning had been a false alarm, that Lucifer had been wrong about Sampson's intentions. After so much silence, Oliver dared to let himself believe that his fears were in fact unfounded after all. Perhaps the retribution from Sampson that they had been so afraid of wasn't coming. It was that thought that allowed Oliver to get to sleep that night. His sleep was not untroubled- it rarely was, even with Felicity near- but it was as close to it as he got.

When he woken, an indeterminable amount of time later, by his phone ringing, it was still dark out. He checked the caller ID and saw that it was William on the phone. His gut twisted. William wouldn't be calling this late unless something was wrong.

"William?" he asked, lifting his phone to his ear. In the bed beside him, Felicity, apparently hearing the distress in his voice, came slowly awake, sitting up in bed and reaching around him to turn on the bedside lamp.

"Unfortunately, no." Michael Sampson's voice answered Oliver's query. It brought back memories of the last time he'd gotten a call and someone other than who he expected responded when he answered. The last thing Oliver wanted to be thinking about right now was the fact that the last time that had happened, Felicity had very nearly had needles full of Vertigo stabbed into her neck, enough of it to have given her a fatal overdose if he hadn't acted. This time, he was helpless, powerless, too far away to prevent what was happening.

"He's here, though," Sampson said, halting Oliver's racing thoughts. "Say hello." There was a long silence, then William asked "Dad?" his voice high and trembling with fear.

"Will-" Oliver started to say, but was cut off by the _click_ of the call disconnecting. He cursed, not in English, angry Russian words slipping from his tongue without his having conscious awareness of their doing so.

"Oliver?" Felicity asked, knowing what him slipping into Russian meant and so sensing that something was wrong. "What's going on? What's happened?"

"It's William," Oliver replied, his anger quickly turning to fear. "He's got William."


	16. Chapter 16

The moment Lucifer entered the precinct, he was pulled aside by Chloe, who grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him into the observation booth behind the interview room.

"You want to tell me why the _mayor of Star City_ is in there giving a statement right now?" she demanded, jerking her head toward the window of the observation booth, where Lucifer could just see the event in question taking place.

"What happened?" he asked instead of answering Chloe's question.

"Apparently," she replied, "Sampson kidnapped his son." Before Lucifer could ask how she knew that, since she wasn't the one Oliver was giving his statement to, she clarified, "I talked to his wife a few minutes ago.

"Ah," Lucifer said, nodding. "To answer your question, Detective, he and his wife were the source of the anonymous tip you received that provided you with Sampson's name."

"Exactly how long have you been working together on this?" Chloe asked, picking up on the part of the story that Lucifer wasn't telling.

"Not much longer than you've been on the case yourself, Detective, I assure you," Lucifer answered. "Sampson's...activities were brought to my attention shortly before word of them reached the LAPD. I reached out to a friend of mine, John Constantine, for help, and he sent Oliver my way. As it turns out, he has a particular set of skills well suited to this specific case." Chloe didn't ask what skills those might be, but raised an eyebrow at Lucifer's use of Oliver's first name.

"You're on a first name basis with the mayor of Star City?" she asked.

"He's so much more than just its mayor, Detective," Lucifer said cryptically. "But no, not exactly. I use his first name out of courtesy to him- he specifically asked me to."

"I see," Chloe said. Craning her neck to see through the window, she added, "We should get it in there. Looks like Dan's just about to finish up." Lucifer didn't know what they could get from Oliver that wouldn't be in the statement he'd just given Detective Espinoza, but he followed after Chloe without a word. He'd long since learned to let her take the lead in matters like this.

Oliver looked up at the sound of the interview room door opening. His gaze alit first on Chloe, then on Lucifer just behind her, but he barely seemed to register the presence of either of them. He looked pale and haggard in a way Lucifer had never seen him before.

"I already gave a statement to the other detective," he said dully.

"I know," Chloe replied, dropping into the hard metal chair across the table from Oliver. Lucifer took the chair next to her, as was their routine. Flipping her notepad open to a fresh page and readying her pen, Chloe went on, "I'm going to need you to provide me with a description of your son. Once we have that, we can put out an amber alert and try to find him and the man who took him as quickly as possible." Oliver nodded and drew in a long, shaky breath.

"He's about five foot eight," he began. "Brown hair, brown eyes. No scars or birthmarks as far as I know."

"Age?" Chloe asked, taking the information down on her notepad.

"Thirteen," Oliver answered.

"And do you know what he was wearing when he was taken?" Chloe asked.

"No," Oliver said, shaking his head. "I haven't seen him in a couple of weeks due to my wife and I being out of town." He glanced over at Lucifer, who winced. He had gotten them both dragged into this, but he had never meant for any of this to happen. "But it was the middle of the night when Sampson called me, and that was probably not long after he took William. So he might have been wearing pajamas? Maybe?" He shrugged helplessly, his expression crumpling like paper. His shoulders shook with silent, desperate, terrified sobs. Though he felt like he should have been averting his eyes, Lucifer couldn't help but stare. Oliver Queen had a strong spirit and a will of iron- Lucifer had seen both of them himself- and it was troubling to witness him brought so low. Troubling, because it meant that Sampson was even more dangerous than any of them had realized. Chloe stood and rested a tentative hand on Oliver's shoulder, drawing his attention to her.

"I know this probably isn't going to mean much," she said, "but I want you know how sorry I am that this has happened to you. I'm a parent myself. My daughter is my whole world. I can't imagine what I would do if I were in your position. I promise we will do everything we can to find your son and get him home to you safe and sound." Oliver nodded and whispered, "Thank you" in a quiet, broken voice. Chloe nodded and left the interview room, Lucifer trailing behind her, nearly running into Felicity, who was going in to talk to Oliver just as they were coming out. Chloe muttered an apology and stepped out of her way, Lucifer shooting her a sympathetic glance as he passed.

Chloe walked to her desk with a short, stiff-backed stride. When she reached it, instead of sitting down, grabbing her files and getting to work like she usually did, she just paced, back and forth, in a tight circuit in front of her desk chair.

"You're thinking of Malcolm," Lucifer said. It wasn't a question. "Of when he took Trixie."

"No," Chloe said in flat denial, denial that Lucifer knew was a lie.

"Chloe," he admonished.

"Fine, yes, I'm thinking about when Malcolm took Trixie," Chloe admitted, voice taut. "I'm remembering how terrified I was that he would hurt her. But the thing is… I shouldn't be thinking about that right now-"

"Chloe," Lucifer interjected, about to tell her not to dismiss her feelings so casually.

"The situation's not the same," Chloe went on, oblivious. "Malcolm took Trixie to manipulate me, because there was something he wanted that only I could get for him, and he needed something to use as incentive so I'd do what he wanted." Lucifer listened to all of this in silence, thinking it best to simply let Chloe work through it however she needed to.

"But Sampson doesn't seem to _want_ anything," she said. "It seems like he took Oliver Queen's son just to hurt him, just to prove that he _could_." At this, Lucifer nodded. That pretty much aligned with his own thoughts on the matter.

"Well, let's get to work on finding him, Detective," he said. "Before he can do anything worse."


	17. Chapter 17

Constantine swore, suddenly and explosively, pounding his fist against the bar top in front of him. While Lucifer and the detective worked on more conventional methods of finding Michael Sampson and Oliver Queen's son, Constantine was employing occult ones, so far with no success. He doubted that Sampson had any way of concealing himself from magic, but he might as well have for all the luck he was having finding him with it.

From behind and to the side of Constantine there came a snap of footsteps on Lux's hard, tiled floor and a rustle of cloth. He twisted in his chair to see who was approaching, expecting Lucifer, but the person who came to stand beside him was a stranger to him. He was tall, with muscular arms, broad shoulders, and skin a shade of brown that wasn't dark but wasn't quite light either. He wore jeans, work boots, and a grey cardigan over a white T-shirt, his head covered by a burgundy colored beanie. Constantine couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly, but something about this man reminded him of Manny.

"Having trouble there, John?" the man asked, in the same sanctimonious, mildly condescending tone with which Manny always spoke to him. He must have been an angel, because only angels ever talked like that, like they were doing a favor by deigning to speak to him. The question was which one.

"Gee, whatever gave that away?" Constantine snarled in response to the angel's question. "Who the bloody hell are you, anyway?"

"I'm Amenadiel," the angel replied.

"Ah, yes," Constantine said. "The eldest brother. As I recall, there's no love lost between you and Lucifer, so what are you doing here?"

"Lucifer is my test," Amenadiel replied simply, as if it were obvious. "If I help him, it will prove to my father that I am worthy of having my powers restored to me."

 _Good fucking luck with that_ , Constantine thought. _From what your brother told me, your father is impossible to read and even more impossible to please._ But Amenadiel seemed so sure of himself and his purpose, and far be it for Constantine to shake an angel's belief, so he kept his bitter thoughts to himself.

"What are you doing here, then?" he asked Amenadiel instead. "If you want to help Lucifer, I mean. He's not here."

"He's not?" Amenadiel asked, raising an eyebrow. "I assumed he would be… where else would he be, if not here?"

"At the precinct, I imagine," Constantine replied. "Working his other job."

"Of course," Amenadiel said, with a self deprecating tone, like he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of that sooner.

"If you really want to help him," Constantine called after him as he started to leave, "he's looking for a man named Michael Sampson."

"The person he claimed was imitating him?" Amenadiel asked, stopping in his tracks and turning to face Constantine again.

"The very same," he confirmed, though he wondered how he could have known that, since learning Sampson's name was a recent development in all of this, and Lucifer hadn't known it when he'd first become aware of his activities. "He's kidnapped Oliver Queen's son, and it's imperative that he's tracked down quickly. So if you could maybe, I don't know, _speed things along_ …" He trailed off, making a fluttering gesture with both hands in a crude imitation of the motion of an angel's wings.

"Unfortunately, I can't," Amenadiel said bluntly.

"What do you mean, you can't?" Constantine asked. Amenadiel glowered, then snapped his wings open with an irritable roll of his shoulders. They were almost completely bare, the few feathers still stubbornly clinging to them ragged and thin.

"My my," Constantine said cuttingly. "How the mighty have fallen."

"Indeed," Amenadiel replied bitterly, folding his wings closed once more. "Now you see why I can't 'speed things along', as you put it."

"Well, I'm sure there are other, more mundane ways of helping Lucifer track down Sampson," Constantine said. He didn't care about Amenadiel's plight overmuch, but he _did_ care about sending Lucifer whatever help he could. When Amenadiel gave him a blank look, he said, "You know, good old fashioned detective work. The kind that Lucifer and Detective Decker are no doubt engaged in as we speak." Amenadiel nodded, understanding dawning on his face.

"Lucifer is my test," he said, "which means that I should help him however I can."

"Best be on your way, then," Constantine replied dryly. Amenadiel nodded again and was gone a moment later.

With Amenadiel on his way to the precinct, Constantine could allow himself to feel satisfied that Lucifer would be getting all the help he would need. But he felt weird about sitting around doing nothing, so he returned to his spells, even knowing that such efforts would be futile. He simply didn't know what else he could do.

After a few more hours of fruitless work, Constantine growled with frustration and stomped upstairs to the penthouse, hoping that maybe removing himself to a less distraction rich environment would allow him to actually accomplish something. No such luck. All he succeeded in doing was burning through an entire pack of cigarettes and a bottle of probably very expensive scotch in a desperate attempt to distract himself from his frustration before finally passing out on Lucifer's couch, the sheer volume of alcohol he'd consumed getting to him at last.

"John"

Lucifer's voice jerked Constantine awake. He glanced out the penthouse's floor to ceiling windows as he pushed himself upright and saw that it was after nightfall. He shifted around on the couch until he laid eyes on Lucifer, standing by the elevator with one foot slightly ahead of the other, as if frozen in mid-stride. His eyes roamed around the room, seemingly searching for anything out of place. They settled on the empty bottle of scotch and pack of cigarettes that Constantine hadn't bothered to dispose of and he asked "Are you alright?"

"No, I'm bloody well not _alright_ ," Constantine snarled. Lucifer drew back, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Sorry," Constantine said with a sigh, dragging a hand over his face. "I'm just...irritable, and frustrated, because the one way I know how to find someone _isn't working_." It was a struggle, in that moment, not to break something. Lucifer was silent. All Constantine could hope for was that he understood how hard it was for him to be open about his emotions like this.

"Thank you for sending Amenadiel my way," Lucifer finally said. "For sending me help in whatever form you could. You have no idea how much it means to me."


	18. Chapter 18

"You're making me dizzy," Felicity remarked dryly, watching Oliver pace a circuit that ran the length of their hotel room and back.

"Sorry," Oliver said, stuttering to a halt like a wind-up toy losing power. "I'm just… feeling restless. Like I should be _doing something_. But…" He trailed off.

"But you can't?" Felicity prompted. Oliver nodded.

"If we were back home, I could go out and hunt Sampson down myself," he said angrily. "I could pound the pavement until I found him and got William back. But we're not, so I can't. I just feel so helpless here."

"If it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one who's feeling that way," Felicity said, trying to reassure him. "If we were in Star City right now, I'd have my equipment. I could hack into traffic cameras, surveillance footage, what have you. I could _find_ the bastard who took our son. Here, I'm flying blind. All I can do is sit here and wait for something to happen."

"You and me both," Oliver said with a sigh, sitting down beside her on the bed.

"I promised Samantha I'd take care of him," he all but whispered a moment later. "That I'd protect him."

"Oliver, this is _not_ your fault," Felicity said, overhearing. She knew how crucial it was that that idea be dispelled before it could take root.

"Isn't it, though?" Oliver asked bitterly. Underneath the despair and self recrimination in his expression was just a hint of surprise at the fact that Felicity had responded to something he clearly hadn't meant for her to hear. "Sampson warned me what would happen if I told anyone about what happened that night in the boathouse, but I did it anyway."

"What were you supposed to do, nothing?" Felicity demanded. "We came here to _stop him_. That's the whole reason why we left home."

"And look what happened," Oliver countered. Felicity sighed. She knew, was used to and had accepted that he had a tendency to blame himself when bad things happened to the people he cared about- four years ago that tendency had almost ended their relationship before it even started- but this time around it seemed it was made all the worse by what he clearly saw as a failure to keep the promise he'd made to William's mother. She didn't know if she could steer him away from the dark place he was going to this time around, but she knew she had to _try._

"You _know_ how careful we were," she said. "We had no way of knowing that Sampson would figure out that we were the source of the leak. And the first thing you did when you found out that he had was make sure William was safe, and then did everything you could to make sure he stayed that way. There was nothing else you could have done to prevent this. _This. Is. Not. On. You._ " Felicity felt her emotions get the better of her for a moment as she spoke the last sentence, but she didn't care. She had to make sure that the message got through to Oliver. There was a long, agonizing silence, then he mumbled, "You're right. I'm sorry," and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"You don't need to apologize," she said. "If I can't handle your demons by now, we're in serious trouble." That got just the tiniest hint of a smile out of Oliver, which was a heartening sight to see. It meant there was hope.

"Look, if it'll help you feel any better about this, we can stop by the precinct tomorrow and see if Detective Decker has any leads," Felicity said. "Okay?" Oliver's only response was a slight nod. Felicity felt herself relax, the tension leaving her body, relieved to have something at least resembling an actual plan.

Later that night, lying in bed in the darkened room, Felicity, close to drifting off, could tell that Oliver was feigning being asleep so as to avoid disturbing her just by how much tension he was holding in his body as he lay beside her, far more than he would have been if he'd actually been asleep.

"It's late, Oliver," she murmured. "Go to sleep."

"I can't," Oliver replied in a hoarse whisper. "I keep thinking about William. For the third time in his life, he's in the clutches of a psychopath. Everything we had put in place to keep him safe failed. He must feel so alone, and scared…" He trailed off into silence.

"I know how terrible this all is," Felicity said. "Trust me, I do. But when, _when_ , we get William back, he's going to need us. He's going to need _you_ , and you'll be no good to him if you've run yourself ragged in the meantime." There was a long silence while Oliver contemplated her words.

"You're right," he said at last. There was another, shorter pause, then he asked "How is it you always know exactly the right thing to say?" Felicity lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

"It's one of my many talents," she said. Oliver laughed quietly at that, and they spoke no more that night.

"I'm sorry," Detective Decker told them at the precinct the next morning. She shook her head, grim faced. "I still don't have any leads." Felicity laid a hand on Oliver's arm in an attempt to comfort him, seeing how badly he was affected by the news.

"But don't worry," Detective Decker went on, noticing Oliver's distress as well. "We've set up a tip line. The second Sampson pops his head out of his hideaway where someone can see him, we'll know." Her eyes were filled with the fire of a parent enraged on the behalf of a child not their own. She reached forward as if to clasp Oliver's forearms, but seemed to decide better of it.

"We'll get your son back," she said fiercely, shoving her hands into her back pockets instead. "I promise."


	19. Chapter 19

"We got him!" Chloe crowed, finishing up a phone call. She slammed the receiver in her hand back into its cradle triumphantly and added "We got the bastard!" Lucifer, who'd taken up position in a chair next to her desk, watching her engaged in the part of her work that he couldn't help with, looked at her curiously.

"A call just came in over the tip line," she elaborated, gesturing toward the phone that she'd just hung up. "Someone saw Sampson enter an abandoned warehouse in the industrial district with a thirteen year old boy matching William's description."

"He must have been moving around to make himself harder to find," Lucifer theorized.

"Uh huh," Chloe replied, nodding. "But now what we've got him."

"Should I inform the Queens?" Lucifer asked, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

"Not just yet," Chloe replied, holding out one hand in a gesture that indicated he should stop what he was doing. "I have to take this to my captain. We can't move on this unless and until she determines it to be actionable intelligence." Lucifer growled in frustration at once again being stymied by bureaucracy.

"I see," he said in a carefully neutral tone. "No sense getting their hopes up." Chloe nodded.

"When we get the go ahead to move on this," she said, "then you can go ahead and loop them in. But be sure to caution them about it. Make sure they know that this may not be the end. Sampson might get away from us again."

"Of course, Detective," Lucifer said with a nod. She watched her leave to and relay their new information to her captain, and waited only slightly impatiently for her to return with an answer.

"We're a go," she told him a while later, returning to her desk. "Captain told me to put a squad together and move on this intel as soon as possible. If we wait too long, Sampson might get wind that we're onto him and move again."

"Excellent," Lucifer said. "I'm glad to see that bureaucracy didn't bog us down too much. Just let me make a phone call, and then I'll be ready to join you in this endeavour." If Chloe was surprised by him volunteering himself, she didn't show it. She simply nodded and moved off to begin her preparations. Lucifer noticed that she also didn't question his need to make a phone call. She probably thought he was going to inform the Queens of this new development as he'd wanted to do earlier. He was, but not _just_ that. He wasn't the only one who had a stake in the outcome, and from the moment that Chloe had shared the new development in the case with him, Lucifer had known exactly how Oliver could assist in the final takedown of the man who had threatened his family and kidnapped his son.

Chloe raised a skeptical eyebrow when, later that night, Lucifer arrived at the predetermined meeting point with Oliver in full Green Arrow gear in tow.

"You're a long way from Star City," she remarked drily.

"I am," Oliver conceded, his voice modulator disguising his voice so that Chloe wouldn't recognize it. "But Oliver Queen is a friend of mine, and when he asked me for my help, I couldn't very well refuse." Lucifer couldn't help but smirk at Oliver's "friend of masked self" cover story. He also couldn't help but wonder how long it was going to continue to fool people.

"Well," Chloe replied with a shrug, "I wouldn't say I'm exactly the biggest fan of vigilantes, but I'll take all the help I can get." She moved off to gather everyone together, Lucifer and Oliver following after her.

"Alright, here's the plan," she said when she had everyone together. "We're going to split into two groups. Half of you will storm the entrance of the warehouse, and the other half will cover the exits. Lucifer, Green Arrow, and I will take point with the first group. And remember, our top priority is bringing Sampson in without causing harm to William, so do _not_ discharge your firearms unless absolutely necessary, and then _only_ if you are _absolutely sure_ that you have a clear shot. Is that understood?" She waited for the answering nods before she said, "Alright then, let's move out."

They met no resistance as they charged inside the warehouse- Sampson worked alone, and had no hired cronies to post as guards. Doubtless he'd thought they wouldn't be able to find him again. How foolish. They entered the building to find Sampson in the middle of the vast open space, standing over a thirteen year old boy who must have been William, who he had tied to one of the vertical concrete beams that supported the ceiling. One of the people behind them made the mistake of shouting at him to freeze, and he bolted while they were still far enough away from him to give him a considerable head start. Oliver cursed in Russian and fired off an arrow. It buried itself in Sampson's calf, making him fall to one knee with a cry of pain, but then he pushed himself upright and kept on running.

"You take care of Willian," Lucifer told Oliver. "I'll get Sampson." Oliver nodded grimly and they split off, Oliver toward where William was tied up, Lucifer after Sampson. The latter was throwing himself up a set of metal stairs, limping on his injured leg, and onto one one the catwalks that along the perimeter of the room near the ceiling. If he thought to find escape that way, he was likely to be disappointed, but Lucifer couldn't take the chance that he might slip away again.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he launched himself upward and forward, landing with a _clang!_ on the catwalk directly in front of Sampson. He let out a cry of surprise at the sight of him and stumbled backward, trying to turn around and run back the other way.

"Oh no you don't," Lucifer growled, reaching out quick as a striking snake and grabbing him by the arm. "You're not getting away this time." He marched along the catwalk and down the stairs, dragging Sampson behind him. Finding Chloe, he left Sampson with her, trusting that she could take things from here.

When the chaos had died down, Lucifer went looking for Oliver and found him with William, bent downward to talk to him in a low voice that wouldn't carry.

"I need you to go with Detective Decker and the others," he was saying as Lucifer approached. "I'll meet you at the precinct later."

"Why?" William asked. "Why can't you just come along with me now?" Oliver hesitated, then said something too quietly for even Lucifer to hear. William's eyes widened, realization dawning on his face. Lucifer guessed that he'd just been told that the majority of the people here didn't know that his father and the Green Arrow were in fact one and the same. After a moment, he nodded and did as his father had asked.

If, when, they headed back to the precinct with Sampson and William in tow, Chloe wondered at Oliver's- or rather, the Green Arrow's- sudden disappearance, she didn't say anything. It helped that Star City's vigilante had a reputation for slipping quietly away, for being there one moment and gone the next. When they reached their destination, Chloe handed Sampson off for booking, then sat William down in the chair next to her desk and immediately picked up her phone to call the Queens. Lucifer watched the reunion between them and their son from a distance, only slightly amused by Oliver, for the sake of appearances, having to pretend that this was all brand new information to him.

 _All that remains now is to tie up a few loose ends,_ Lucifer thought, and headed home to Lux.


	20. Chapter 20

"So it's all over then?" Constantine asked after being filled in by Lucifer on the most recent development regarding Michael Sampson. Lucifer shook his head.

"Not quite," he said. "There's still a few loose ends that have to be tied up. Sampson still needs to be brought to trial, for one." Constantine nodded.

"And how long do you think it'll be before that happens?" he asked.

"I don't know," Lucifer answered with a shrug. "I didn't ask. Perhaps a few months."

"A few _months_?" Constantine asked incredulously.

"Surely you must know that the justice system can sometimes move ponderously slowly," Lucifer replied calmly, seeming untroubled by the prospect. "Besides, it's not as if he can go anywhere in the meantime. He's in police custody."

"And how likely do you think it is that they'll be able to keep him there?" Constantine demanded.

"He's only a man, John," Lucifer said in a puzzled tone. He didn't seem to understand why Constantine was so upset. To tell the truth, Constantine wasn't sure that _he_ knew.

"Yeah, a man who kept himself hidden from you and the police for months, slipped right through your fingers when you tried to bring him in, and snatched Oliver's son out from under ARGUS custody before you and your detective managed to catch him," he snapped, attempting to distract from his inner conflict.

"And here I was under the impression that you didn't care," Lucifer said, his tone betraying nothing.

"I _don't_ ," Constantine insisted, "but I have a job to do, that I put on hold to help you with this."

"As I recall, you didn't do much of the actual helping yourself," Lucifer remarked.

"Didn't I?" Constantine in response. "I could have left after sending Oliver to you. I _should_ have left, because right now I'm the only thing preventing the hordes of Hell from overrunning this world, but I stuck around. I helped the Queens help this new world they're living in, and I got information about Sampson to you when you needed it, and I did my damndest to track him with magic when he took Oliver's son. I am _so sorry_ that my help wasn't good enough for you, but don't you _dare_ tell me that I did nothing." Lucifer stared at him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I knew that you'd acted as messenger, and that you'd sent Amenadiel my way when we trying to find Sampson, but I had no idea that you'd done so much else. It was never my intention to disregard your contribution."

"Maybe you should have paid more attention then," Constantine said bitterly. The pair lapsed into silence, silence fraught with feelings left undealt with and things left unsaid.

"This doesn't have to be the end, does it?" Lucifer asked, breaking the silence. Constantine stared at him, unable to believe those words were coming out of his mouth. Lucifer, for his part, looked as surprised as Constantine felt.

"What do you mean?" he asked, voice wary.

"I mean, this doesn't mean goodbye, does it?' Lucifer elaborated. Constantine's only response was to continue to stare at him uncomprehendingly.

"I… know that when our relationship, such as it was, first began, it was one of convenience," Lucifer said hesitantly, voice soft as if he were afraid of what would happen if he spoke too loudly. "You were...in pain, and you were using me as a distraction, a way to try and forget about what had happened to you. I knew that, and I was okay with it, and I let it happen. And when we parted ways, I was fine with that. But when recent events brought you back into my life-"

"When you dragged me into this mess, you mean," Constantine interjected.

"-I came to realize that I… care for you," Lucifer went on as if he hadn't spoken. "And I don't want to let you go this time. I don't want to lose you again."

"I'm not leaving yet," Constantine pointed out, uncomfortable with Lucifer's out of character display of emotion. "Besides, you have your detective. You don't need me."

"Chloe's not _mine_ ," Lucifer said softly, voice still fraught with deep, unidentifiable emotions. "She belongs to herself." There was a pause, then he added, "And you're wrong. I do need you." Constantine didn't respond. He didn't know what to do, didn't even know what had just _happened_ , except that he was pretty sure Lucifer had just handed him his heart, and he didn't know how to hold it. In fact, he was pretty sure he would break it or damage it irreparably if he _tried_ to hold it.

"I know what you're doing," he said. Lucifer's answering look of confusion was obviously feigned. Constantine was sure he knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

"Don't give me your heart," he went on, not wanting to give Lucifer a chance to try and continue his charade. "You know I can't carry it." Lucifer frowned and looked like he wanted to protest, but thankfully held his tongue.

"When were you planning on leaving?" he asked instead, knowing, as Constantine did, that his departure was the inevitable conclusion of this venture.

"Not just yet," Constantine replied. "But soon. Most likely within the week." Lucifer nodded.

"Good," he said. "Then we still have some time." The words had been spoken so quietly that Constantine was sure that he hadn't been meant to hear them. He tried not to think too hard about what they might mean. He was certain that he didn't want to know.


	21. Chapter 21

"So what happens now?" William asked in the middle of having breakfast at a diner with his parents the morning after his rescue from Michael Sampson. "Do we get to go home?" Oliver and Felicity exchanged a look, wondering how to break the news that their departure from Los Angeles would have to be delayed to him.

"Not quite yet," Oliver finally said, deciding to take on that difficult task himself. "Felicity and I are going to stick around for a few more days, just in case Detective Decker needs any additional statements from us. Then we have goodbyes to say before we leave."

"But we'll be going home soon?" William asked.

"Within the week," Oliver promised. "Count on it." William brightened at that. He seemed eager to return home, a feeling that his parents shared. The rest of breakfast was passed in companionable silence. Oliver and Felicity were dying to get caught up with William now that he was here, and safe, and likely to remain so for the foreseeable future, but they decided that that could wait until later.

And wait it did, until they returned to the hotel later that morning. They walked into their room and immediately fell into the usual routine they went through when they spent time together as a family, which they hadn't done in weeks. William had, understandably, been noticeably on edge since coming home from the precinct yesterday, and Oliver and Felicity were relieved to see that the familiarity of routine at last allowed him to relax a little bit.

They ended up talking late into the night, and it was only when they succumbed to exhaustion one by one that the conversation at last died out. After that, the next few days were spent making preparations for their return to Star City. First, they checked in on everyone to make sure things were and had been running smoothly in their absence, and that Sampson hadn't tried to go after anyone else before he'd gotten to William. They were told the affirmative in the former case and the negative in the latter, which led them to suspect that the reason why Sampson had chosen to go after William was because he had determined him to be the easiest target. To the end of making it so that no one else who might wish to cause them harm would make that same judgement, Felicity spent an hour or so on the phone with Curtis, walking him through the process of upgrading the security system in the apartment such that no one who wasn't supposed to be there or who hadn't been granted entry by its residents would be able to gain access to it. Then, with all of that done, and having confirmed with Detective Decker that she didn't require anything further from them, it was time to say their goodbyes.

They started with Lucifer. They went to Lux in the early afternoon, well before business hours, and found him seated at the piano, a glass of amber colored whiskey within his reach on top of it, his head wreathed in cigarette smoke. His fingers halted on the piano's keys when he heard them come in, the last notes of the song he'd been playing fading slowly and hauntingly into silence.

"I must admit, I wasn't expecting a visit from the two of you today," he remarked in his silk-smooth voice, turning on the piano bench to face them.

"We're just saying our goodbyes before we head home," Oliver explained. "All of our other last remaining bits of business here are concluded."

"Well then," Lucifer said, getting up from the piano bench and crossing the room to meet them where they stood by the bar. "Farewell, you two. Your help proved to be invaluable in bringing Michael Sampson's menace to an end. I can't thank you enough, and I am deeply sorry that your family got dragged into all of this." He took each of their hands in turn, conveying through that gesture the same farewell and gratitude he'd just expressed with words.

"I'll admit that I was the last person I was expecting Constantine to call," Oliver replied, "but I _am_ glad we were able to help." He paused, gathering his thoughts, then said, "As for the fact that our family got dragged into this, that wasn't your fault. As...unfortunate as that was, it couldn't have been foreseen or prevented. It wasn't _any_ of our faults." Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver saw Felicity smile briefly as he spoke. After all, she'd told him much the same when Sampson had taken William.

"Anyway," he went on, "we should get going. There's still goodbyes that need to be said."

"Of course," Lucifer replied. "Safe travels, both of you." They thanked him for the blessing and left Lux behind.

Shortly thereafter, they met Constantine at the same seedy dive bar where he had first given them a glimpse into his world of Hell and magic and the Devil, what seemed like years ago now.

"So, Lucifer tells me you two are headed home," Constantine grunted when they sat down across from him in the corner booth. They exchanged a look. They hadn't expected the news to travel quite so fast.

"Yeah," Felicity said, being the one to speak for the both of them this time. "We're just saying our goodbyes before we head back to Star City."

"And it's my turn, innit?" Constantine asked. Oliver shrugged.

"We're here, aren't we?" he asked. "What do you think?" The sarcasm in his voice earned him a glare from Felicity.

"What about me ever gave you the impression that goodbyes are something I need _or_ want from anyone, Queen?" Constantine asked. His gruff attitude didn't deter either Oliver or Felicity- they were used to it by now.

"Nothing," Oliver replied. "But leaving without a goodbye seemed… wrong."

"For what it's worth," Constantine said, "I'm sorry that I dragged you into this. I told myself that it was because I was busy, that I had to prevent the hordes of Hell from overrunning this world and consequently just didn't have the time, but the more I kept hanging around here the more I realized that it was really because Lucifer needing my help scared me, and I wanted to distance myself from it as much as possible. It was selfish of me, and I'm sorry."

"To be fair, nothing that happened to us as a result of our involvement was your fault," Oliver said, "but I appreciate the honesty. I know how hard it is for you to open up that way."

"How?" Constantine asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because I used to be the same way," Oliver said, and that was the end of it.


	22. Chapter 22

"So, that's it then," John said. The phrasing of the sentence made it sound like a question, but his tone of voice made it so that he wasn't asking but rather confirming what he already knew to be the case. All the same, Lucifer nodded.

"The Queens are headed home," John went on.

"They are," Lucifer confirmed.

"And Sampson is still safely in police custody."

"He is."

"So what is there left for me here then?" The question made Lucifer flinch, taken aback. He'd known this goodbye was coming from the moment the Queens had come to give him theirs, had seen the end looming on the horizon, but he still somehow hadn't thought- hadn't imagined- that it would come quite so soon.

"There's me," he dared say, his voice quiet. The noise John made in response wasn't quite a scoff, but it was close enough to one to strike a dagger of pain and rejection deep into Lucifer's heart.

"I told you not to give me your heart," John said. "I told you that I can't carry it."

"I know," Lucifer replied. "But it's too late. It already belongs to you."

"And to Chloe," John pointed out in a distinctly snappish voice.

"What of that?" Lucifer asked with a shrug. "Can't it belong to more than one person?"

"Of course it can," John replied, visibly frustrated now. "The point is, with being the case, there's no need for you to act like your world will fall apart if I'm not there. You have Chloe. You'll be fine."

"John-" Lucifer started to say.

"I have to leave, Lucifer," John interjected. "There are things I have to do. I've lingered here for far too long as it is."

"I don't want you to go," Lucifer whispered, hating how desperate he sounded.

"You've made _that_ clear," John sighed, "but I have to. I don't have a choice. Not with this." A pause, then he added, "Please don't make this any harder than it already is." Lucifer wished that that meant that John could be convinced to stay, but he knew better. He was completely dedicated to the lonely life he saw as his duty to live, and there'd be no persuading him otherwise, a fact that Lucifer was all too aware of- even now that he'd met Oliver Queen, a man known for his iron will, John was still the most stubborn person he knew. He also knew that the words John had just spoken were the closest thing to a real goodbye that he could possibly expect from him. And sure enough, in the next moment, he was gone, leaving behind only his familiar scent of brimstone, ash, and tobacco smoke.

Over the following few days, Lucifer could swear he could still feel John's presence in the city, traces of his magical signature lingering in the air. He told himself that he was imagining it, that John was long gone by now and the only reason he thought he could still sense his presence was because he _wanted_ to, _wanted_ him to still be here. When _that_ failed, he threw himself deep into his work, both at Lux and with Chloe and the LAPD, in an attempt to keep himself so busy that he didn't have _time_ to think about John or wish that he was still here.

After a while, it seemed that his distraction tactic had worked, because Lucifer finally found himself no longer sensing John's presence everywhere he went in the city. Either that, or he truly had been sensing it because John hadn't left LA yet, and now he was finally gone. Whatever the case may have been, Lucifer wished him good fortune in all his adventures. He knew how hard it was for him to come by, especially these days.

Over the next several weeks, Lucifer shifted his focus toward tying up the very last loose end that still remained in this business- Michael Sampson. His trial date was looming, and though everything about his case seemed pretty cut and dry, there was still quite a bit of work that needed to be done to make absolutely certain there'd be no chance of him being acquitted for his crimes. To that end, Lucifer met with Chloe and representatives from the district attorney's office almost every day to discuss the finer points of Sampson's case and the evidence against him. He and Chloe were the primary witnesses for the persecution, and as such it was essential that they knew the case both backward and forward.

"We should call the Queens," Chloe told him. "They're witnesses too, and their testimony might be just the thing that lets us well and truly nail Sampson."

"I'll see what I can do," Lucifer replied, nodding. There was no denying the sense of Chloe's suggestion. He wasted no time in making the call.

It took some convincing, but eventually Lucifer managed to get the Queens to agree to make a brief return to LA for Sampson's trial in order to testify against him. And as it turned about, Chloe had been spot on when she'd predicted that their testimony might be just the thing needed to nail Sampson to the proverbial cross- William's story of how he had kidnapped him, in particular, left everyone in attendance visibly moved. The fact that all three of the Queens were visibly shaken after recounting the event must have helped as well, for the jury laid down a guilty verdict not long after. As Lucifer watched Sampson be led away by uniformed officers for the final time, he could finally allow himself to feel confident that this whole dreadful business was well and truly finished.


End file.
